Heart Of Rock, Heart Of Ice?
by MindTemple
Summary: When a little girl enters Phantoms life, The Phantom helps to heal her. He could keep her, or leave her with her grandparents. Will he love again? Will he listen to his ice or rock heart? FIRST IN SERIES. BEFORE "WILDFLOWER CASINO". READ THIS ONE FIRST.
1. One Year

**This was my first Fanfiction. I am QUITE aware of its stupid plot, dumb situations and somewhat horrible grammar. I started working on this in 2007. It's not by best piece. But, it might still be worth reading. I keep it on here to remind myself what NOT to do. It's still a fun read, though :).**

**

* * *

  
**

It had been one year. One year since she left me. One year since the Opera Populaire expanded an extra three floors, and several rooms wider. One year since... Christine has died. Raoul had died.

I never found out how or why Christine had died.

Raoul on the other hand, had been shot. He bled to death. Christine had been devastated in Heaven, I'm sure. I certainly wasn't. He deserved it, in my eyes.

But, of course, my eyes weren't always the most reliable.

She would have given up all of her dreams for him. She was willing to live in my Hell with me, then have her precious Raoul die.

I had been cruel. She had seen my evil side. I have not loved for so long, I would have done anything to make her mine. I needed her. She did not need me. She needed Raoul. Raoul would give her the love she deserved. I was a monster. A monster that deserves to be chained and hidden into the basements of the Opera.

Many consider me a genius. A musical genius. Madame Giry told me that I write entire operas for the house that made the spectator's jaws drop. The performers were spectacular. The lights. The dancers. The beautiful curly-haired woman singing... entrancing my mind into a state of ecstasy.

But she was behind me now. I had nearly killed myself over my loss of her. I threatened myself with guns and knives... all to fail because I still thought there was hope. Hope that she may come back for me.

Deep down, there was no hope.

I guess you could say I moved on. I still have somewhat of a feeling for Christine, but it is fading. Over the years of my wretched life, I have learned to let things go easier. I have learned to forgive the way the people at the circus had beaten me. I don't know how... but it doesn't bother me much more.

Or maybe I am just lying to myself... Who knows? I lie to myself almost all the time.

The scars are the only thing I still hate. Then again, I also hate how cruel and hateful my soul is. How I kill. How I am a monster to some, a God to others.

I leaned my head on the back of my chair. Writing music was so much easier when I had something going on with my life. There was nothing. A blank, empty, hole. It had been this way ever since I sang my last song before Christine had left. An abyss of boring emptiness.

The Opera Populaire definitively was not abandoned. I had been writing operas, story after story, for the house. The house was under new management, after an _unfortunate_ accident. One of the owners hurt his back when he _tripped_ down the stairway. The other broke his arm when the man who fell down the stairs landed on him at the base of the stairs.

None of the singers had impressed me. They had enormous shoes to fill, with Christine being the expectation bar. Some of the dancers were very talented, particularly a little, seventeen-year-old girl named Denise Derri. She showed great potential to be an amazing ballerina. I wish she would sing. Just one note? I seem to have hope for great dancers to be amazing singers.

For good reason.

I sit alone in my lair now... the trickle of a small water fountain falling into my own little river being the only sound. My pen had stopped writing lyrics to my latest serenade. My mind was too lost . Lost somewhere. What was this feeling? My eyes burned, and I found it getting harder to move swiftly through the stone floors of my lair.

Drowsiness. I was... sleepy. I had not felt this feeling for three months. I had not slept in three months, though. Maybe my body was telling me to sleep. Well, yes. That was the point of emotions and feelings, right? To tell me what was going right or wrong in the body?

So I must sleep if I am tired. I have not used the bed that was ready and made for when Christine may have married me since long before Christine came into the picture. When I did sleep, I was usually slumped over in my chair. I had been working on yet another piece of beautiful music. Every few months or so I had a large wave of drowsiness, and I would dose off. I once spilled my ink on my suit, and I was angry about how stupid that was.

I whirled my black cloak as I stood from my chair and turned. I heard some papers from my desk ruffle because of the air moving, then settle once more. I sauntered towards the bedroom. I was in no hurry, for what was there to look forward to with slumber? Unconsciousness. Whoop De Do.

Something caught the corner of my eye. I stepped back from the passed doorway to gaze at the white fabric.

The wedding dress. The one I had made for Christine. It once was worn by the wax doll that I had made of Christine. In anger and betrayal, I had thrown the doll into the deepest part of my lake. It was still in there... I never had the desire nor will to fish it out.

The dress had been saved because I had taken it off. I put effort into that dress... I can make a million dolls. But only one dress exactly like that I can make. It took a lot of time, and the need for me to go up to the surface and into the public eye to buy supplies.

I shook my head to snap myself out of the trance of thoughts. I shoved away the memories that still stung with little stingers. Such as a bee or a jellyfish. Stung me in my heart.

I began to walk faster to my bedroom. I ran away from the memories.

I paused at the door. It was engraved with detailed pictures of angels and flowers. I had taken my knife and began to engrave flames engulfing the angels long ago. I had finished only recently.

The angel in Hell.

I pushed the door open, revealing the bedroom within. The only thing in the small room was a small end table next to a large, dressed bed. I slowly stepped towards it.

What was making me hesitate? It was just a bed, for God's sake! I knelt into the cushions, a knot twisting in my stomach. Fear? Fear of what? Nervousness? I am nervous for a bed. What kind of drama could a bed experience? I do need fresh air.

Fresh air later. Sleep now. I crawled into the bed, not bothering to slip under the covers to stay warm. A monster did not need to be warm.

The knot began to fade. It was soothed with my mind closing, my sight darkening. I sighed one last sigh, and that was he last sound I heard before darkness and silence.

* * *

_ "Hello, demon" she stepped toward me. She was blurry with the tears in my eyes._

_ "No. Leave. Please, monsieur" I cowered. The man with the whip had been following her... staring at me with big, bug-eyes. _

_ "What is the matter, fool? We offer you a gift. You are so unappreciative, mongrel" The man with the whip held something brown in his hand. I was nervous about what trick he would play on me now._

_ "a...gift?" _

_ "Yes! Did you not hear him, demon?!" The woman yelled at me, "well?! Answer me!"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "YES WHAT?!"_

_ "Yes, madam" I felt a tear slide down my face. The scars burned with the water, because they had cut them and whipped my face._

_ "Good, rat. Monsieur, give him the 'gift'. It is probably the best gift he could ever receive!"_

_ Then they laughed. Everybody. Then the man tossed me the brown thing at me, hitting me in the burning face. It hurt even more now that the scratchy fabric had rubbed and hit the wounds._

_ Everybody left, locking my cage. My boundary from life. A good life, at least._

_ I looked at the fabric. A bag. A potato sack with two holes cut out where the eyes are supposed to be placed._

_ Crying, I pulled the bag over my face. _

_ A mask, my first, unfeeling scrap of clothing. _


	2. Afraid

I woke with a start. I has warm and sweaty, and my breathing was heavy. My eyes were flipped open wide in the pain of the memories. Tears streamed down my face.

I quivered and slowly pulled my legs up in an Indian style. My pulled my hands up to my face, and just sobbed. Sat there and cried my heart out.

That little tidbit of a memory had led to so many other memories, which led to so much more pain. I quieted myself down, sitting up with my legs as if I was still sleeping. I sat, gasping for air, eyes closed. I slammed my head against the pillows once again, and took some deep, uninterrupted breaths.

I realized two things that moment.

One, my mask had fallen off in my turning and rummaging in my sleep. The porcelain white mask lay on the maroon pillow beside me. My wig had stayed on, but had frayed and became messy. I reached a sweaty palm over to the mask. My wet fingers carefully picked it up from the hole for the eye, being skillfully aware of the dangers of picking up a one-of-a-kind fragile porcelain mask with slippery hands. I hung the mask up on the demented side of my face, the bumps holding it in place. Like a picture frame being held onto the wall by a nail.

Second, I realized what I was afraid of. I was afraid of the memories. The memories that only haunt me every few months. When I sleep. The nightmares that stab me, and the memories that turn the knife. I thought I was over my past... but it turns out I am only over my recent past. Christine leaving me. The renovation.

I slipped out of the now messy bed, and straightened my clothes of wrinkles. I always did this when I awoke. There is no reason to clean off my evening clothes, for I changed into fresh ones only a moment later.

I had decided on wearing, big surprise, a black and white ensemble. The cloak was jet black, my undershirt, which was slightly Victorian style with curly accents, was white. It flowed over the vest I wore that was black and cut off at my shoulders. The overcoat was a lighter black, but not quite gray. My straightened pants were stark black, and below them were shiny, black, Paton leather shoes. I had straightened my 'hair' and, of course, put on my white mask to hide my hideous disfigurement.

I guess I liked making my own clothes. It made them individual. I did hate going up to the surface in order to buy supplies. Somehow it payed off when I stitched all of the fabrics together and made a warm, beautiful ensemble me to wear.

Wow... I really need to find a woman. I am making clothes and I enjoy it.

I closed the door behind me as I entered my study. The newest opera that I was writing was hanging on a board that I had made out of many layers of spare scrap fabric. I had pinned the sheets of music with small knives. I was careful to leave only a small hole. There were balled up, wrinkled and ripped papers scattered throughout the room. These papers were the discarded, unwanted, or messed up pieces of music.

I pulled out the somewhat comfortable chair and scooted into it. This was how I would spend the rest of my day, writing my music and singing as I tested the notes and lyrics.

I sighed as I balled up yet another attempt at making a piece of music. This was what I usually went through when I wrote an opera. Or a single song. So much work, so little recognition.

I still worked three hours later, at seven in the morning. I had finished two songs, the first was the middle song to be sung when the young girl finds her father. The second was to be sung when the father takes his daughter back home with him.

I didn't know my father. I knew my mother... oh God did I know her. She loathed me. Even my mother hated me for my face.

Sleep now. Fresh air later.

It was later.


	3. Enter Thy Life

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I had my whole face mask on. It covered my entire face with a cold, porcelain touch. I had sneaked through the many corridors beneath the Opera Populaire. After much experimenting, I had discovered a route to a back door, to the outside world.

I twisted and turned through the massive crowds of people in Paris. I didn't wander, for I had a destination. It was an old place, but every time I go out, I always came here. I still don't know why.

The gates were made of iron. They were open wide, revealing a beautiful colorful, flower garden. I let my eyes fall into a squint as I studied the now close flowers. I kneeled and picked up a single rose. It was slightly damp because of the recent rain, and little droplets of water sparkled on the fresh red petals. One of my gloved fingers wiped a drop away, leaving it dry. I sighed.

Still staring at the rose, I slowly stepped over to a small wooden bench in a gondola placed in the middle of the garden. Since the bench was covered by a roof, it was not wet. Not taking my eyes off of the flower, I sat down, my cloak flowing down to the ground.

It was only a moment later when I realized that all of the petals were on the ground. I was slowly picking them off... deep in thought. I didn't know what I was thinking about, though. I was lost in space.

My abyss was interrupted by a tug on my shirt sleeve. I moved my eyes, head still staring down, to the source of the pull.

"Sew?" the little blonde girl's hair was in two side pony-tails, "Wha aw you doin' hea?"

I turned my head fully towards her. I had expected her to run away at the sight of the full mask, but she didn't even cringe. Her eyes open wide in curiosity, she reached a hand out and touched my mask.

"Cowd" she let her hand fall down once more

"Yes," I smiled under my mask, "very cold."

"Why you wear it?" she wobbled in front of me, moving to my right, then sat next to me on the bench. My head and eyes had followed her throughout her 'journey'.

"Because I don't drink."

She tilted her head to the side.

"I was attending a masquerade, until everybody around me was acting silly and doing not smart things. I did not want to be like that, so I left for France's Garden, here" It was the best way that I could explain it to such a little child.

She smiled. "Oh. Wha aw you dress as?"

"Just a man with a mask."

"Ah. A _sharp-dressin_ man with a mask." She smiled. I smiled with her.

"Thank you." She was complimenting my normal attire. I chuckled.

"Wha?" she tilted her head again.

"Nothing," I turned to her again, "where is your mother?"

She shrugged. "I was walking with them to go to da house, zen I saw a cupcake stand, and I ran tos it. I got the chocolate cupcake, then turned to go see my momma an she wuznt dere."

"Hmm..." I folded my hand together I my lap, "so you're lost?"

The little girl fondled with her white dress. "I gwess."

"What theater were you going to?"

"Opera Populaire." She pronounced it wrong, but I got the point of what she was addressing.

"Do you know how to get there?" I crossed my legs. She did the same, which made me smile.

"No."

"If you or your mother wouldn't mind, I can take you there."

She perked up. "I am sure my mother wouldind mind. I wanna see my momma again."

"Then let us depart."

"Wha?'"

I smiled. I forgot that I was talking to a three-year-old girl. "Let's go find momma."

She jumped up from the bench, a smile on her face. "Reawy?"

I slowly stood up. I brushed non-existent dirt and wrinkles from my shirt and the cloak that now hung over my shoulders.

The little girl was ahead of me by a few feet. She turned back to look at the slow-moving masked man behind her. She was still smiling.

She had stopped running to let me catch up. When I was walking beside her, she grabbed my hand. I looked over at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I don't wanna get losth again, sharp-dress man with mask" she squeezed my hand, and I squeezed her little hand slightly.

"Okay, little girl wearing a white dress who has her hair in two pig-tails" I smiled under my mask. I guess that she knew that I was smiling because of my eye's shape, because she smiled too.

After we exited the garden, she stopped holding my hand. She held my cloak instead, and she began to skip.

"_Skippin' round Paris, Paris, Paris._

_Runnin' through here and 'dere,_

_'Dere ain't no reason to walk, walk, walk,_

_When you can skip 'round Paris, Paris, Paris!"_

"Where did you learn that?" I looked at the fast moving child. I speed-walked to keep up with her.

"My aunty lives in America, and I visit her every Summer. She taught me that little saying to sing whenever I skipped anywhere, I just change the town name" She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

It was hard to not smile when an adorable little blond girl was holding your cloak.

It was quite a distance to travel, which made me wonder why she had made her way over to the garden. I had asked, and she replied that her mother had told her that if she ever got lost, to meet her in the garden.

A safety net. A good idea for most parents.

"Do you know where your mother may be?"

"She is probably at the Opera by now... unwess she waited fo me."

I did not know her mother, so I could not possibly know if she had waited for her or not.

"We will just have to go to the Opera and find out if your mother is there."

While we walked, she began to walk again, I figured some conversation may fill the time.

"What opera are you and your mother seeing?" I spoke once we cleared a crowd of shopping French people.

She looked at me with big, blue eyes. "I do not want to see it much, but we are seeing "Merty' De French"... It is about a murderer that kills jut so that he can eat them. It is very gruesome... I may have to walk out so I don't get scawed."

I remembered writing that opera. I had not intended for little girls to watch it. There were some horrible scenes and nasty songs included within it. The story line was much more complicated than what she explained, but she got the gist of the story. A very bad gist.

"Hmm... doesn't sound like something for a delicate child, such as yourself" I pretended to not know about anything.

"It is the least I can do for my mother... she wants to see it, and she cares for me as a single mother... it is hard for her" she looked down at her black shiny shoes as she slowed her speed. I slowed with her.

"Oh... your mother is single. It can be hard for one woman to care for a child on her own."

"Yesh... especially with my problem..."

"Problem? What problem do you have?" She looked so perfect, how could she have any issue?

She sighed and carefully pulled out one of her ponytails. When her hair fell down, there was a small, reddish, bump.

"See? It was there ever since I was born."

This touched me a little. This poor little girl had something wrong with her.

"Why is it a problem?" It was just a bump... I had half of my face deformed.

"It makes it harder to walk... I lean to the side more than most because it is heavy. It is connected to my brain, so if anyone were to hit it, it could kill me. So it makes it hard to learn things. I barely know my ABC's."

"If someone were to hit it, how could it kill you? Is your brain not protected by your skull?"

"When I was in mommy's tummy, my skull never developed in one spot. In it's place, was this... bump."

This poor girl.

"Everybody makes fun of me for it at school. They also mock me for my lack of knowledge, I refuse to play sports."

Hm. Interesting. "Well... they make fun of things that you cannot help. And your language skills are more advanced than any other two-year-old that I have ever known."

"Speech is all that I have. Sometimes it makes me look and sound smarter... I am sorry for dumping all of my feeling on you..."

"No! No... I asked you... I know what it is like to have something odd about you that people don't like." The little girl began to put her hair up again.

"You do?" one of her eyebrows raised.

"Yes... why do you think that I wear this mask?"

"Because you go to partay."

I had completely forgotten about that excuse. "Sorry child... I have lied to you. Truly sorry... This mask, it hides my secret... no need to be scared, little one."

"Why do you wear a full mask, then?"

"Because people will know my face, and..."

I paused. I never really thought of that... what people would do if they saw my face. I had guessed long ago that they would kill me, or at least come after me.

I paused. I shouldn't talk to a little innocent girl about this. It would ruin the innocence of adolescence before me.

I shook my head. "No need to worry, child. I believe I am being rude... I never asked of your name."

She smiled wide, her eyes closing. "My name is Diana. What is yours?"

I paused once more. I looked down at my shoes as they slowly stepped. Left, right, left right.

"Erik. My name is Erik."

"Hello, Erik" she smiled more sweetly and squeezed my hand quickly. I squeezed it back.

"Hello, Diana."

We had been traveling for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. The high roofs of the opera house were now in sight on the horizon, and our pace had slowed.

Diana yawned. Her pace slowed even farther... and I slowed to stay with her.

"Are you alright, Diana?" I had stopped completely and knelt beside her standing body. She rubbed her eye with a closed fist.

"Just a wittle tirwed. I helped my momma sew the clothes and do some chores this morning, so I didn't get much sweep."

"What time did you get up, little one?" This melted my ice heart a tidbit.

"Two in da mornin'. We had to get the eggs from the chicwens, milk da cow, and pick the veggwies. My momma fed the piggies and all da horses and all da othda animals. I fed the chickwens and picked the corn and the other veggies and some strawberries and..."

I listened to her chores as she listed them. Little girls should not be doing the work of a farm man. She needed her rest, she needed to play and laugh. Not a single drop of sweat or a single tear should fall from her face unless it was from joy.

"What happened to your father? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Diana sighed. Or half-yawned. "He was an actor in the opera. He had played his last night, dancing and singing... when-" she choked.

"You don't have to finish, little o-"

Whoa. We had been walking next to a wooden fence, and she had slammed her fist into it. She had her face pointed down in a frown. She had her teeth clenched, her eyes squinted. When she dropped her fist, a small, hollow dent filled her fist's place. "Him."

"Who? And how did you-"

"The Phantom Of The Opera! HIM! HE KILLED MY DADDY! He was just dancing along... just doing his job, when something must've made him angry, _because everything evolves just around him, _and he cut the wire and the sandbag that held the cloud in place fell on his neck. It snapped. HIM! WHY DOES HE DO THIS?! WHAT MAKES HIM SO ANGRY, TO THE POINT WHERE HE KILLS?! MY DADDY! HE... I'm sorry for... for..." She began to sob into her hands. Strong hands.

Oh no. I remembered the murder of one of the male dancers in 'Hannibal'. I was aiming for Carlotta, but I ended up hitting the dancer. Everyone had been in shock. I remembered a middle aged woman with a... baby... oh God. She was kneeled over the dead man, the baby crying. Oh God. I had no idea he had been a father to a young child. I had no idea he had a wife. I thought everyone that participated in the operas were single with no family. Oh God. This sweet little girl worked her hands to the bone because she needed to fill her father's place. Because her father was gone. Because I had killed him.

Good thing I was wearing a full mask, for I did not want her to see my face. She might have seen me.

"How do you know it was him?" My stomach wretched.

"I saw him. Although I was only a wee baby, one of the memories that I can recall like it was yesterday... was me opening my eyes from crying and seeing a man in the rafters... he wore a half mask. White. Black suit with red accents. He ran. Coward. He should have jumped down and fought my mother. She's a tough woman. She would have killed him and let him rot. I would have laughed."

"Maybe you should go see that gross opera..."

She giggled. "I only act this way with him... horrible creature of darkness."

"How do you know he is bad... other than the obvious reason, that is."

"I heard the story of the chandelier dropping, and how he stole a woman to kill her. Christine Daae. Poor woman... he is a cold-blooded murderer. Ice heart."

So people had exaggerated that story, too. "Why not a rock heart? Why ice?"

"Because when you crack ice, it breaks and melts. No further existence once it is dead, only ugly water. When you crack a rock, a beautiful stone is revealed. There is no beauty in his heart... it makes you wonder why he is so bitter... doesn't it?"

She was a very smart girl. That bump on her head did not effect anything. She must've asked many questions about me to her mother... her mother answering falsely.

"What would you do if you saw him again?"

She looked at my eyes. "Nothing. I would tell him he killed my daddy."

"You wouldn't kill him? Not attack him?"

"My mother told me violence is horrible. I just want to see his face."

"You just went from violent little girl, to peaceful child. You think before you act, don't you?"

"Yes... but my will to see behind his mask will never fade... people say it is such a vile sight... but what could be so horrible?"

"A deformation. He was born with excess skin on the side of his face, for he had a twin in his mother's tummy... but it had died. The excess skin gathered and made lumps and deformities on his face." She did want to know.

"Hm... wait... how did you know that?"

"Huh?"

"How did you know exactly what happened to the Phantom?"

I paused. We continued walking, but she yawned again. "I am... friends with him. Long time buddies."

She stared at me. "You... know him? Everybody says he lives alone... and has no friends."

"They blow many things out of proportion."

"Like what? What is he really like? Who else has he killed?"

I sighed. Curious little girl, I see. "He is mean... but only because he is alone. He has never actually... loved someone that hasn't left him."

"He loved someone?" She must've noticed the little hints that there was someone.

"Remember that girl Christine? The one that he 'killed'?"

"Yes..."

"He loved her. He was enchanted by her voice... he had never loved anyone like this before. Usually everybody shunned him away for his face, but she saw his loneliness. She did not hate him for his face, and-"

"Awwww... how sweet! Did they fall in love?" She was perking up. Every little girl must enjoy a story.

"How about I finish later? Perhaps I can meet with you and your mother after the opera?" I smiled, "I would be delighted to meet her."

She smiled, giddy once again. "She would love to meet you, monsieur Erik!"

Oh no. I was going to meet her mother? Why did I say that?! What would I say when she saw my mask? Would I keep the excuse of the masquerade? But when I said that, would Diana blurt out 'that I was hiding a secret'? She was two, after all.

I held open the gate for Diana as we reached our destination. I had closed the gate, not going through to the house with her.

I saw her grab her hand out and grab open air. She slowed from her run, and turned around. Her smile disappeared, and she ran back towards me. She gripped the iron bars that separated us.

"C'mon," she urged, "the opera starts in thirty minutes... I want you to see it with me!"

"I cannot go much farther, little one," I had to be careful, "I... am banned from the opera house."

"Why?"

"Because I have befriended the opera ghost."

"You are not allowed to go in cuz you have a friend that they don't like?"

"DIANA!" I heard a loud, shrill yell from behind Diana. She turned from me, one of her white-gloved hands still on the bar.

"MOMMA!" A skinny woman in a dress came running from the main door at the opera house. She was fast for a woman in such a big dress and high heels. The woman scooped up Diana, and judging by Diana's reaction, I guessed that I shouldn't be worried about the woman hurting her. The woman looked so relieved, and by the looks of the make-up falling down her face, she must've been crying. She began to cry again.

I guess this is Diana's mother.


	4. Creepy Guy With The Mask

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Don't EVER run away, ever again, Diana! You scared the life out of me!" Diana's mother set her down, after she had scooped her up in a big hug.

"Momma! I'm sorry... but I wanted a cupcake!" she hugged her mother again.

This was when her mother noticed the creepy-looking man in the mask looking at them.

"Can I help you, monsieur?" she kept her arms around Diana, protecting her.

"Oh! Momma, that is Erik. He guided me here and helped me find you!" she smiled at me. I smiled back.

"Hm, really?" her mother stepped over to me, holding Diana's arm, "your name is Erik?"

"Yes Ma'am. I assure you, you are about to see a great opera. I have seen it myself."

"You told him what show we were seeing?" she murmured to Diana.

"Well... I better be heading off... perhaps I will see you again, Diana and..." I paused for her to add her name.

"Mrs. Frej. Hello, Erik" she held her hand out for me. A black-gloved hand received it and shook it. My hand.

I nodded my head and turned to go.

"Wait, Erik" Mrs. Frej yelled towards me as I was a few feet away. I stopped and turned.

I had turned just before Diana's mother gave me a hug. She was short compared to my height. "Thank you. For bringing me back to her. You can wear a mask all you want, just please don't loose your kind heart."

I wanted to scoff, but I didn't. How would I explain that? I did not give her a hug back, for she was a married woman. He may be dead, but love lasts forever.

I knew that one.

Diana ran up to me, and gave me a hug too. I smiled, for her head only reached up to my thigh, but it was sweet. I patted her on her back. "Bye-Bye, Erik. I wish you could see the opera with us!"

"That is a great idea, Diana! How would you like to see the opera with us? I assume you know what one we are seeing, for Diana told you..."

"Oh, Erik can't go in-" Diana was interrupted by myself.

I coughed to interrupt her. "I am sick today... I would not want to spread my illness."

Diana's mother looked down, then at Diana. "Well... alright... maybe we will see you around later?"

"I'm sure", I remembered something, "Oh, Diana?"

She walked over me once again. "Take this, and don't show anyone but yourself what is inside. Follow it's instructions, and something will surprise you." I smiled at her and handed her a piece of paper. She took it, but did not open it.

"When should I open it?" she put the paper in a little pocket on the side of her dress.

"Once you get into your seats at the opera."

She nodded and ran off to go find her mother. I had began to walk away when I turned back, seeing Diana's mother arguing with the admission guard. They both pointed to Diana.

I knew what the debate was about. In my letter addressing the opera I had asked that this be viewed by only mature audiences.

I watched until the guard eventually let them in. I sighed a sigh of relief.

Once back at my lair, I stood beneath the vent that allowed me to hear Christine for the first time.

I had my half-mask on once more. I now had on a red and black outfit, replacing everything that was white before with red.

It was now 7:24. I needed to get going.

I headed out to my seat in box 5.

I stood there, scanning the crowd for the little blonde girl and her mother.

I found them, staring at the dancers on the stage. Diana's mouth hung open. She was amazed at the gruesome scenes? Perhaps just the singing or dancing.

There was a large clock on the opposite wall from me. It was exactly 7:30.

I watched as she searched her pocket for the note. She pulled it out and, silently, opened up the folded paper. She looked up at the collection of boxes above her. I saw her mouth move as she read the numbers of the boxes in her mind. 1...2...3...4........

5.

The man with the white half-mask stared down at her. Her eyes opened wide, her attention now completely distracted from the opera. Her mouth dropped open, and then closed. Her eyes went into a squint. Her mouth moved again.

"You."

I nodded my head. I then slowly raised my arm, and let my hand stand that the level of my eyes. How ironic. I then wiggled my fingers and smiled slightly.

She raised her hand to the level of her sitting chest, in order to keep it secret, and waved in a right and left movement. She no longer squinted her eyes or frowned. It was instead replaced with a look of awe.

We both put our arms down. I think it was time while she was still interested. While she stared, I got down on my knees slowly. I raised both of my arms and slowly clasped my fingers together. I moved my clasped hands back and forth. I was begging for forgiveness.

Her mouth closed once more, and her eyes opened wide. Her eyebrows knitted together.

I let my eyebrows do the same. My mouth frowned once more, and I let a forced tear fall down my face.

She blinked. She looked absolutely shocked. She even had her dainty fingers placed over her mouth.

I got up from my knees and placed my hands at my sides. I was not erect like I usually was. I let myself slouch and my head tilt to the side.

As did she.

I stepped back and hid in the shadows, holding the black cloak over my body. She still stared at the emptiness for a while, but eventually her attention was brought back to the opera after an exciting part.

I wondered if she forgave me. Probably not, but I just wanted to show that I was sorry for killing her father. I never meant it...

Never meant to kill a father.

I would not know about the feeling of fatherhood. I may have come close if I had ever experienced the feeling of being a son. I had no father. Of course, I _had_ a father, but I never knew him. He ran away from the hospital, literally, when he saw my face. My mother probably would have ran too... but she was restrained by the _drags_ of labor. She was a little busy giving birth to a demon.

I have seen pictures of my father, and he didn't look too appealing to a son. In three quarters of the pictures, he was drunk. Or he was just being obnoxious. Either way, it didn't make me want to meet the guy.

I had finished it. The opera 'Jole De Mianga'. Tragic love story... done a million times over, but still seems to appease the crowds.

I decided to stop there. Usually I got right to work on the next opera once one was finished... but today I think I will relax for the rest of the evening.

What do you do when you relax? I wouldn't know... I was always running... away... from something or someone. I never had time to just lye there and be peaceful. And if I did, my mind would be filled with the thoughts of something else. Whether an opera, or a girl, I was always thinking.


	5. He Is Dutch? Who Knew?

ONE WEEK LATER

I was hungry. I hadn't eaten in a week, so my body needed nutrition.

I despised eating. I hated how it all wasted away if you didn't eat it quickly. I hated how I had nowhere to store food that was non-perishable. I had to get fresh food, also for my health. Whenever I ate food that had too many preservatives or was fatty, I had a wrenching headache and I needed to lye down.

It is probably because my body is so lacked of nutrition that if it _does_ get something in my stomach, and it does not get the proper nutrients, then my body sends a message to me to get better food.

My stomach growled at me to go get food. "Oh shut up. I will go shopping right now. Give me a minute..."

Oh God. I was talking to my insides. I really needed a woman.

I once again switched my half-mask for my full. I switched my red things in my ensemble to white once more.

Once on the surface, I watched my steps as I walked towards my destination.

My name is Erik. Erik originates from Holland, also known as the Neverlands. I was actually born in Holland... and I ran away to Amsterdam when I was eight. I had been tired of the mocking.

Fortunately, I had met a nice family that owned a circus that took me in. It least I had thought that they were nice. They had me transported to Paris, where I was shown and beaten as "The Devil's Child".

Yes, I was fooled into being the demon that I am today... smart, yes? I think not.

I stared at the store-front that stood before me. I opened the door, hearing a bell to notify the staff of my arrival.

"Hey, Erik, my man!" Benny stepped from the back kitchen. He had a Dutch name and heritage, but he preferred to be called 'Benny'.

"Hello, Benny. How are the kids doing?" I stepped inside and the door closed behind me with a soft thud. There was nobody else in the store, so Benny could act as obnoxiously as he wanted.

And he would act obnoxious.

He jumped over the counter, even though he was an older man, and hugged me tightly. He patted my back with force. He did this every time I walked into this store.

I didn't hug him back, and instead merely cleared my throat to signal him to get off. He did, then spoke once more, in Danish.

"What can I get for you, today, me Dutch Shadow?"

I was called the Dutch Shadow by all of the employees here... my only friends.

I tried to remember my native language. I was fluent, but I have no need for it except for Benny, so I have not spoken it lately.

"I have a memorized recipe that always pleases me when I do eat..." I spoke in Dutch.

"Ah... still speaking in the ol' native I see? And what was that recipe you were speakin' of?" Benny walked back behind the counter once again as I followed him, on the other side of the counter.

"First course, a Erwten Soep, with your finest pork... second course, Stamppot, with none of that second-class bacon, Benny... I only eat once a week... I want something good. For dessert, muisjes on bread... and don't try to fool me again by putting real mice in my bag." Dutch was getting easier to speak now that I revived my mind.

Benny laughed. "Aye, you can never forget the mice on bread incident!" he laughed again his hearty laugh... which made me laugh too.

"That was pretty funny, you fat fool!" We both laughed.

He was the only person that I could laugh the way I really laugh around. He was just like me... but... normal and more social... and had a loving family... and he was normal...

"Aye... I miss ye when ye don't eat... you be me only business!"

The laughter slowly died down... leaving the breathing of Benny and I.

Benny cleared his throat. "So ye be makin' pea soup and a Curly Kale, eh?"

"Yes... I know that you have the things to make it... you own the only Dutch shop in the city!"

"Then ye better must start lookin' if ye wanna make yer dinner by dinner time!"

I searched the store with a basket in hand. I thought about how stupid I must look with this container.

"So... Dutch Shadow... Ye be buyin' a whole lotta food there... ye sure ye ain't cookin' for a... lady friend?" Benny nonchalantly followed me around as I scanned the shelves in the small store.

I looked up from a box that I was holding. I turned my head towards the leaning Benny and smiled slightly and squinted.

"I wish. Benny, I am making clothes and yelling at inanimate objects. I really need somebody to make me sane!" I put the fresh Kale in my basket. Benny had cut it fresh right in front of me only a moment ago.

"Well what be stoppin' ye?"

"I'm too shy...women are hard for me, you know?"

"Ye need to get out dere, Dutch Shadow!"

"Your wife left you a year ago... what do you know about women?"

"Aye... I guess ye didn't hear 'bout Denna..."

"Denna? Who is Denna?" I picked up some more ingredients as he followed me around and chatted with me.

He looked proud and looked up happily. "_Denna_ is not only the new mother of my three children, but also the blood mother of a fourth wee one... Aardina," He smiled.

I looked at him, smiling with a twang of jealousy and happiness. "Bram! Bram, you have another one!?"

Benny smiled. Bram was his real name.

"Congratulations, monsieur!"

I dropped my basket and hugged him. He laughed and hugged back.

"I know when your happy when you give _me_ a hug!"

We detached and I began searching again. He still followed.

"It is a girl, yes?" I asked. I knew by the name, but with Benny's oddness it could be a male with his grandmother's name.

"Yes... named after my great aunt. She be the one who gave me the money to let Thomas be born in an acceptable hospital."

"Good reason. You have a beautiful family, Bram."

"Yeah... You ever thought about a family? Wife?"

"You think that I don't? Every day. I want a _woman_ Benny... I need a woman. I would want a little gir..." I trailed off... deep in thought. Little girl...

"Girl? You want a little girl? That what ye mean?"

"Nah... never mind... a little boy. Man. I would make him strong... he would do great things!"

"Big dreams... big POSSIBLE dreams! Just. Get. A. Woman!"

"And where do you propose that I get one that I may like? One that would want to spend the rest of her life with me?"

"Look around Paris! Make yer money obvious, because ye sure do got it! And wear yer best clothes, and maybe take off dat mask!"

"I wish, Benny... I wish I could... Well... I got have everything I need... I will talk later.

"Alright, Dutch Shadow... I be seeing you in 'bout a week, aye? Mark it on yer little calender the date! Don't you forget!" Benny stepped behind the counter again and waved me goodbye.

"I will come back... probably looking for some things to make Poffertjes."

"Maybe ye be making the little pancakes for a woman next time, eh?"

"Maybe, Benny, maybe. I bid you adieu, monsieur." I opened the door.

"France is getting' to ye, Shadow... say goodbye like a Dutchman!"

I laughed. "Ik zie u volgende keer dat wij elkaar ontmoeten, Benny. Goodbye."

Translated, It states, "I will see you next time we meet, Benny".

"Yeah... bye."

And the door closed.

_______________________________________________________________________

AUTHORS NOTE:

I'm not Dutch... but I do use the internet to it's full advantage!

Please, R&R... Read and Review... I would really appreciate it!


	6. The Demon Prays

As you can probably assume, I do not use my kitchen often.

But when I did decide to use it, I _used _it. Whenever I did eat, I went all out.

Contrary to popular belief, I was, if I do say so myself, an amazing cook. I usually stuck to my heritage, Dutch, and went with memorized recipes. I spent time on each course that I made for myself, making sure it was made with the healthiest alternatives, for my head's sake.

Soon the savory smells filled my cave. I was so used to the same old smells, that it barely tinted my mind. I had made Curly Kale many times, and it was still my favorite.

I was cutting the Kale now. The knife was moving so fast, that even the man who was moving it was amused. I joke with myself how a murderer that uses a noose has a capability to use knives. Why kill my strangulation when you can use blood loss? Or bone fracture?

Hm. The odd thoughts that only a murderer thinks.

I had set the table for, of course, one. I sat and ate. Once again, it was delicious, if I do say so myself.

I had made only the two courses, the soup and the Kale dinner. I _never_ made the desert along with the main courses. I believe that it dilutes the flavor of the desert.. reduces the sweetness.

Surprisingly, I have quite a sweet-tooth. I can be a sucker for sweets when I forget about my head issues.

Head issues. The Phantom of The Opera just admitted he has _head issues. _What a double meaning.

I had finished, closed my eyes and interlocked my hands. Despite my hatred, I had always believed in a good faith to get through certain things. God had always been there throughout all of my problems.

Second thought, maybe I would become Atheist. When had he helped me through _anything?_

"Amen."

I had finished desert. I hate dishes, so I don't do them. But, I like to keep things clean. So what do I do?

I do what every family wishes they could do. I grabbed the plates, climbed up to the hidden entrance from behind the opera, and hid within the shadows.

I guess you can say I have too much free time.

There was a brick wall separating my property from the next. I stood, in a somewhat athletic position, and held the plate at the level of my eyes.

Then a smash of glass. I laughed watching the broken plate fall in thousands of pieces.

The second plate I held like a disc. I threw it like a Frisbee, and listened to the crack and smash of the glass.

There were only three plates, but I threw them quickly. This was my way of cleaning the dishes.

I use the dishes so infrequently, even when I smash them to smithereens I never run out. When I originally bought the plates, I had bought them in a large amount. I still had a mass amount of glass plates in my cupboard.

As for the silverware, lets just say when the city council wakes up tomorrow, the main park's fountain will be _mysteriously_ bubbly and soapy. And after the bubbles subside, several pieces of silverware will _magically_ appear.

I only 'did the dishes' when there was rain in the forecast. The rain washed the glass into the sewer system below...

I live at the same level as the sewers. At least I didn't live _in _them.

But the loneliness was just like living in a deep hole.

Oh yeah. I was.


	7. Everything He Does Fails

**A FEW HOURS LATER**

Oh. God...

Oh God Oh God Oh God!

NO!

I could have sworn...

Had my senses finally deceived me? Betrayed me?

I hope not! Please, don't let my senses fade... they are all I have.

That later, this now. She was...

I don't know...

The sirens in the background... They weren't for me, I know, but it still put me on edge.

There was no rain. NO RAIN!

I pray and pray, yet he still ignores me.

The glass lay there... some red... some clear. More red than clear... Oh God.

Okay... I sighed... I need to slow down and think. Re-think. Re-call. Re-evaluate the situation. I sighed again, pacing the shallow part of the lake, breathing heavy. She was still crying... how do you stop the pain in a child? I never knew how to heal _myself_!

After pacing for ten minutes, my clothes now soaked, the crying died. Oh No! NO! I splashed out of the water, my heavy clothes dragging me down. I ran to her side, the little specks of glass pierced all over her body.

I held her head up in my hands. I panicked when her mouth hung open. I panicked when her eyes didn't flip open. Oh God... I gently laid her head back down on the pillow, wishing I could take better care of a little child. I, hands shaking, grabbed her wrist, putting my ring finger and index finger across it.

Bum Bump. Bum Bump.

Oh, thank God.

I didn't want to hurt her... but she needed to get off the cold stone floor of my lair. I, very carefully, picked her up. My right hand supported her legs, letting her legs bend at the knee. My left hand supported her neck. I spread my fingers to keep her head up , without anything else falling.

I stood up from my knees and, while watching her, walked slowly to my bedroom. I lay her on her back... her head slowly nodding to it's side. I propped it back into place, wanting only to help her.

Right... Re-evaluate the situation. It happened to fast... would I remember everything? Well... it would be fatal if I did. One clue could help.

I had been working on a song... for the new opera of mine. I had finally been on a roll. I had finally struck inspiration. I was testing notes, lyrics. I remember them now...

_You will never find,_

_The way to light or day,_

_If you stay here with me.._

_If you ever think of a reason..._

_Will you stay with me...?_

I had began to sing the next verse when there was a terrible scream. I laughed. I thought it was Carlotta... attempting to sing a high note once more. But I was horribly wrong.

There was a loud grind, then the scream got louder. This was when I stopped writing. What if something was wrong?

I stood in silence, listening to the scream. What was it signifying?

Then a few 'BOOM's, with each of the bumps, the screaming stopping. Then a splash. This was when I realized that the source of the scream was no longer outside. It was inside my lair.

Now I was angry. Who DARE enter my lair, especially so loudly? How rude could a single... girl?... be?

I whirled my cloak around me as I stood from my chair. My whole mask was on, for I had just run out to get more ink for my pen.

The scream turned into a whiny cry. This was when my heart turned from anger... to worry. Who would be crying in The Phantom's lair?

Then worry turned to panic when I turned the corner to reveal the ladder that led from the secret entrance to the shallow part of my lake. A little white dress... a black shoe laying a few feet from my feet. I stood, feet glued to the floor in shock, staring at the face-down little girl...

The whine turned into a full-blown cry now that she tried to pick herself up. She began to prop herself up on her elbow. She fell down... for an unknown reason.

Then my legs and mind decided to move. Get into action. The water splashed onto my pants and soaked my leather shoes. I was soon at the crying girl's side, kneeling. My hands tried to reach beneath her body to pick her up. But when I even touched her side, the cries got louder and more painful. I quickly pulled my hands back, not wanting to hurt the girl.

I stayed there, panicking. Not knowing quite what to do. The little girl did prop herself on her elbow, her arms shaking. Maybe in pain, maybe in exasperation. She got up high enough... then onto her other elbow, a little shriek escaping her throat. Then onto her knees. She crawled about three feet back, towards the ladder. She reached her hand up... not quite reaching the handle on the ladder.

Then I looked at the crying face. I had been so encased by the little girl's injuries... that I never noticed the round, painful face. The blonde pig-tails... the rosy cheeks (at least they were)...

Diana.

DIANA!

I crawled towards her on my knees, my ears filled with shrieks of... pain?

She let out one last scream, then fell back onto her back.

That was when I saw her face fully. I was in shock that a sweet little girl could make such a high-pitched, ear-retching... screech.

Apparently she saw me too. She looked up at me, her eyes growing wide. The cries died down... turning into heavy breathing.

"Sharp-d-d-dressed man wi-wi-th da m-a-a-sssk!" Then a cry erupted once again. I guess she remembered me.. and I remembered her... oh how did I...

But not like this. I remembered her with blushing cheeks... her hair a golden yellow... so bright... happy...

Down here her adorable features were grim. Especially with her face in such a twisted emotion.

She rolled over again, "I gotza go home! I gotza go home!" she reached for the ladder once more.

"Diana... stop" I said calmly... I didn't want to startle her. What was causing such... pain?

"Gotza! I gotza! Go now! Momma iz waitin' for me!"

"Diana" I said a wee louder. She needed to get her attention towards me.

"GOTZA!"

"Diana!" I shouted softly. Was there a better way to get her attention? I didn't know. I hadn't exactly been treated 'nicely'.

She stopped grabbing. And instead of her cries; became breathing once again.

"Diana... tell me.. where does it hurt?" I didn't even know if it was pain.

"Everywhere!"

Well, that helped. "Any place particular?"

"My feet" she cried when she tried to move her leg.

"Sh... Diana... Don't move anything... Just tell me where to look... and I'll see if I can help." I didn't want to hear her cry. It pained my heart.

She lay still. I carefully scooted over to her feet, stretched out in front of her.

I almost cried when I looked.

"Glass... there is glass in your foot..." I looked at her face, stricken with pain, wet from tears and the water she landed in.

Then a thought hit me that may soothe my nerves and give me peace of mind. "What happened to you?"

Diana sighed as she tried to sit up to see me. She was successful, but she finished with a look of pain.

A tear slid down my face. I wanted to help her... but I needed to know what was wrong.

"Well... after the yucky opera..." she looked at me, "I went to go home. My momma knew that I was hungry, so she held my hand to go find a place that makes Cassoulet or something. She let go of my hand for one second, and I smelled muffins. I wanted a muffin _so_ bad. While she was ordering... I ran off to go find the muffins. While I was running towards the stand, which was now in sight, I heard a scream. Everybody turned their heads to find the source, as did I. Nobody knew what it was or where it came from. Everybody turned their attention back to their business... but I wanted to help whoever was in pain. I looked around and walked from the crowds, until it was no longer busy and I was alone. I began to run when I heard another scream. I could hear where it was coming from now... behind the opera house."

I gulped. I had an idea of what was coming next.

"I went behind the opera house... but there was no one there. I stepped cautiously along the brick wall. There must've been a twig or something, because I tripped. When I was falling... my forehead scraped against the walls. That is this cut right here" she pointed to a scab-like scratch on her face that went from her eyebrow to her hairline on a diagonal. I winced.

"Then, when I fell to the ground, a billion little daggers hit my skin. When I cried out and turned over, I realized it was glass. When I tripped, my shoes had fallen off, because they were unhooked. When I stood up, the glass pierced my feet, which hurt most. I was now crying... then I stopped. There was a sound. It was deep... like molasses and syrup. But it was also clear... like the glass that was stuck in my skin. I stopped crying to listen... it was singing... a hum. It was not a hum, but only muted. I searched to see where it was coming from, still in pain from the glass. I followed it, when it stopped. My ears were leaned towards the wooden door in the ground. It was so beautiful... I wanted it to start again. I opened to door, seeing only black. I had put my hand on the grass to feel inside, when my hand landed in more daggers. I began to cry again..."

Was everything that I did horrible? I made the daggers. I made the deep voice that made her come down here...

"I felt within the black, still crying, for something to grip on to. I felt, what I thought was, a stair. I leaned onto it and the pain from the glass went deeper into my skin. I thought that it was a staircase, so I stepped out in front of me, only to find air. I then fell down into nowhere... My body and head bumping on the walls and on the ladder steps. More pain. I just sat there then, crying. Thank God that my bump wasn't hit... I would be dead!"

"No... no... please don't say that. You can't die. You are little..." I panicked.

She began to cry when she tried to sit down once more on her back. I took this time to examine her foot... pierced with several pieces of glass.. Many several pieces of glass...

"I can get the glass out... but it will sting... it may hurt..."

"Get it out. I am already numb from my belly button to my pinky toe" I knew she was joking, because there was a smile in her voice, but I could not joke about that. Her bump could have been hit. I could be talking to a corpse, but she wouldn't respond. I could be picking the glass from a dead little girl.

"I can carry you to my office... there I have some things that may help to take out the glass" I choked. This was a horrible situation for a man who has no idea how to take care of a little child.

"I can walk- OOWW!" She had tried to stand up, but fell down. I had tried to catch her, but instead I was too late.

"No...no... I will-" I choked, "carry you."


	8. OG Hospital

Now it is now. The present... I must figure out a way... to care for this poor, poor little girl. This poor, sweet,_ very curious, _innocent, dainty little girl. Oh no...

She was in my bed, lying there... sleeping. How could she sleep? What let her sleep? She was covered in glass! Little children confuse me sometimes.

Maybe I would use this opportunity to get the glass out from her body. But would that wake her? Maybe she needed to be awake. When would there be another chance to get the pieces out?

I took off my mask... sweat beading down my face. I kneeled down by her bloody feet. I grabbed my tweezers (I own them solely for clearing the clogs in my pen, I swear) and slowly began to pick the biggest piece of glass from her foot. Once it was out, I put it into a steel bowl next to me on a table.

I continued this until both feet were clear of glass. My bowl was full, for it was a small bowl. I used it for sauces when I made bread or something.

I then washed her feet and bandaged them. They would soon look good as new... pattering throughout Paris... running away.

I then moved onto her legs. I had gotten a new bowl and rinsed the tweezers. Her shin was the only part of her leg that was hit with the glass. Her thigh had none, remarkably.

Then onto her stomach. What do I do? Do I remove her dress? Do I just take the glass that was outside of the dress? I wouldn't be sick if I took off her clothes to save her, right? I'm so confused.

I took the pieces that merely pierced her fluffy white dress. The frills made it hard to find the little pieces, but I spent time looking for every piece.

I thought none pierced her skin. I thought I was safe, until I saw several red dots appearing on the white dress. I sighed. What do I do?

I would have pulled the dress off of her head. That would be hard... considering she was sleeping and there was glass on her chest and a little on her face. So how would I get the frilly dress off?

Oh no. Would I have to... cut it open? It would be a shame to see such a beautiful dress be torn in half.

That was when I had felt over her stomach and chest. There were no bumps of glass or sharp things. That was when I realized that the dress's cloth was very thin. The pieces of glass that I had just picked out, _were _the pieces of glass that I had just pulled out.

"Oh good..." I whispered to myself. The dress would not be ruined. And I would not have to pick glass from her bare rib cage. I shuddered at the thought.

I finished her torso. It had taken me a total of an hour to remove the glass carefully, disinfect the wounds, bandage them, and wash my equipment throughly.  
Now onto the face. This was going to be hard. I didn't want to wake her...

Carefully... the one from under her eye... the one on her forehead... and now the little ones. I took a dry cloth and put disinfectant on it. I dabbed her entire face. Her entire face had some sort of abrasion. A cut or a hole...

I had put a sticky bandage on her scrape. Her forehead may be scarred, I couldn't tell. The holes from the glass were so minimal, that I figured that bandages covering her face would not be necessary.  
And then she slept. I was worried when she didn't wake up... but her chest moved up and down... up down...

Then I realized something about her dress. The frills were not sticking up, and the pure white color was now stained with grass green and dirt. Everything was wet.

I would make a dress for her. She needed proper clothing... she was a patient at the infamous "O.G Hospital".

I laughed at the idea. How could a monster care for anyone in pain. Monsters only cause pain.

I walked into my tailoring room. This was where I kept the fabric and all of my supplies. Before I entered, I had checked Diana's dress size. I was familiar with it, so I did not need a dummy for size (don't ask why, please).

But I did need it to give me some support.

I decided on going with a white, frilly dress... but I had no white, dress-like fabric. All of my white fabric was light, so that I could make "frilly" shirts that did not get me to hot under my many layers of clothing. It was too thin, you could see right through it. Not proper for a little girl's dress.

So... I searched for a good color, texture and thickness in a fabric. The only bright color that I had was a scarlet red. It had the perfect, soft, texture... the thickness was able to keep her warm, yet not make her sweat. I also had a dark maroon red, and a middle red. I could make a rose-like dress... very frilly and girly...

And so I started... the image of a rose in my mind... the many layers, and the center was more clumped than the rest of the flower. This dress would look very interesting...

Then I had finished the bottom, made completely of frills that outstretched about a foot from the body. It went up to the knees. I stood back, looking at it from different angles. It needed something... but what?

Please, Lord, send a woman to me. I am making little girl's clothes and I am enjoying it! I'm starting to worry myself...

I had began to add the layers on the torso. The deep maroons and rich reds made it look like my vision... darker in the center, lighter and more spread out towards the outside. The sleeves were puffy, and not lined with anything. I think they needed to be lined. But with what?

I had lined the collar with red frills, yet again.

I stood back to gaze at my creation. It needed something... something... darker.

Black!

I had wanted to avoid black... because of it's dark nature, but it would have made the dress look... better.

So I took some black, thin fabric, and cut it into thin strips. I lined the puffy sleeves with the black. I then curled the fabric into somewhat frilly pieces, then mixed them into the puffy bottom of the dress. I then lined the sides, the bottom corner of the dress, and the collar with thin strips of black.

Now it looked good. It looked less like a rose, but more like a better dress. I had made high-socks and salvaged her shoes so she could wear them on her feet.

"Erik?"

I turned my head ever so slightly towards the squeaky voice. I knew it was her, and I had my mask off. I didn't want to scare her...

"Diana?" I managed to peep out.

"Yes" her voice was too soft. It lacked perkiness.

"You should not be standing... your feet are still sore."

"They don't hurt at all. Thank you for bandaging me."

"Your very welcome."

Silence. Was she sad? I couldn't turn my head to tell.

"Your mask is off."

"Yes, I know."

"Is your secret showing?"

What was she- oh. The first time I had met her and explained why I wore my mask I said "It hid my secret."

"Yes it is."

"It doesn't look that bad, Erik."

I froze. "W-w-what?"

"The mirror... I can see your face in the mirror."

I looked at the long mirror in front of me. I saw her, white dress in all, looking at my reflection look at hers. She had no expression. She just stared at my shocked, scared face.

I was scared of her reaction. What would she do? Please don't cry. I couldn't comfort you... I'm too much of a monster.

She still just stood there. We stared at each other. Then she took a step towards me. Her bare, bandaged feet were cautious. She was stepping towards a hungry lion.

I felt my mouth peel downwards. The look on her face was not horrified, but I knew she was. A two-year-old did not find a disfigurement good. Especially a little girl.

But she kept on walking towards me. The lion was stalking her... ready to pounce.

But instead, she was the one who pounced. She hugged me from behind, her arms wrapping around my stiff shoulders. Her eyes closed, letting a tear slide down her face.

She was scared. But if she was scared, then why was she hugging me?

I let my hands wrap around hers. She sighed into my ear.

"You killed my daddy."


	9. The Lion Attacks

I froze even more. Now my eyes stared down. Down at my feet. My mouth hung open ever so slightly. My breathing was heavier.

She opened her eyes and stared at my crying face. A tear had slid down on my normal side. Her eyes were not angry or sad... but... well, I couldn't read that emotion... I had never seen it before.

"Didn't you?" she stared at my reflection once more, her blue eyes sad.

I stared back.

"Now I know how the Opera Ghost could be your friend, for you are him" she smiled.

She smiled? Why was she smiling? She was hugging a murderer, sitting on his knees!

My face twisted, more tears sliding down. Her smile disappeared, this time replaced my sadness.

"I'm sorry!" I finally cried, "I'm so s-s-sorry!"

This was disastrous... this was a horrible feeling. This feeling of... weakness... the difference. I have not felt this feeling since... my childhood.

I stood up. I almost laughed when Diana clung to my neck, and hung high in the air, but I was so distressed.

"Diana... let go" I cried, letting the pain engulf my face.

"No."

"Diana... your holding onto a murderer!" I began to walk, hoping that she would drop from my body. She should not be touching a person so foul.

"I know."

"Yet you still hang on? Diana... you are two years old. You should not be... meeting me. I am not somebody to know." I stopped walking, stopping in front of the mirror.

"I-"

"Look at my face, Diana! Does this look nice to you? Does this look _good?_ How many times do you think that I feel so... so..." And I sighed. I became angry. The lion ran after the little girl. Diana did not drop. I sighed. "Diana... drop."

"No..."

"DIANA! YOU SHOULD HATE ME! I CERATINLY DO!"

"You... hate me...?"

Silence. Then the only sound was the sound of a patter. She had dropped from my back.

"No... I don't hate you... I hate..." I stared at my reflection. My hideous reflection. "HIM!" I grabbed a gauntlet from my desk and smashed it against the glass. The glass shattered and fell at my feet. I smashed the rest of the mirror... so angry.

Diana had screamed and held her hands over her neck as she sat, knees propped by her head.

I stopped, my breathing heavy. I let the metal cup fall to the floor, making a loud ring fill our ears.

Then my breathing slowed. I turned to find Diana still in the defensive position. I just stood there. I didn't know what to do!

I eventually moved my legs slowly, stepping on the glass, and reached over to my desk. I grabbed the white face mask. Placing it on, I turned and walked towards the fear-stricken Diana.

I kneeled down beside the crying girl. "See? I'm not... the man that you think I am..."

She looked up at me. Her face turned from fear... to that odd emotion again. She sat Indian style and wiped the tears from her face. "I know that."

"I'm so sorry... that you had to see that..."

"Erik..." she scooted over to me, who had turned to walk away, "you are not bad. Your face is not ugly. It is not your face that is disfigured... it is-"

"My soul. I know. I have heard it all before."

"Not your soul. Your mind." Her body had fallen against my still-kneeling one. Her arms wrapped around my arm this time.

"My mind? Are you saying that I am making this all up?" I pointed to my face.

"No..." she touched the demented part of my face with her tiny fingers, "I think you are blowing it out of proportion."

"Out of proportion? You think I make up that I am ugly? You think that I make up that people hate me? You think that-"

"You do not make anything up... but instead... you make small things big" she stepped in front of me and sat on her folded legs.

"Really?" I said sarcastically. What was she talking about?

"Yes. You think that you are so ugly...but it isn't that hideous. You say people want to hunt you... but... well..."

"What?"

"Everybody thinks you are dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes... when I went to the opera... they announced that you were slain... an angry mob had come after you and beheaded you."

I laughed. "Really?"

"Why is it funny?"

"Because the new manager is losing business. He is obsessed about getting money... and my 'accidents' were making the operas so hard to run... people started to leave."

"Oh..." She then looked me straight in the eye, "why do you do these things?"

I stared at her back. "Because they do not please me. I give them letters explaining exactly what I want... who plays what... what key to play in... but they do not listen. They do whatever their little minds want. And that disappoints me... and I show them that I am displeased..."

"By hurting people?"

We stared at each other. "Every time that I do these things... I never intend to hurt people... ever. But... sometimes I forget to carry the two, you know?"

"Carry the two?"

"Never mind that... it means that I miscalculate sometimes... and horrible things happen."

"Oh..." she looked down, "Death happens."

"Yes."

"Why do you think you are so ugly? Why do you think you are so cruel?" Then she yawned.

I smiled. "Would you like to go to your bed? You seem to be tired."

She smiled at me and stood up, as did I. When I turned to exit, I felt a tug on my cloak. I looked, and Diana's little arms were outstretched towards my face. I smiled. Although I hadn't seen this in such a long time... I knew what it meant.

I picked her up from the hollow of her arms, and when I brought her up to my chest, she clung to my neck, her head resting right below my chin. She yawned as I carried her from my tailoring room, to my bedroom.

I laid her down gently on my bed, pulling the covers back. When her head was laid on the pillow, her body comfortable, I pulled the thick covers over her. It gets very cold down in this cave. She needed to be comfortable. I tucked the blankets under her body, sealing her in. I smiled and turned to walk away.

"Erik?,you never answered my question."

"Hm?"

"Why do you think that you are so horrible? What makes you go crazy?"

"How about I tell you in the morning? You need rest. You are too little to be up this late."

She sighed. "Fine. Good night Erik."

"Good night, Diana."

And I blew out the candle lighting the room.


	10. It's Raining Cash Halleluhia

I worked in silence. I needed to be quiet. Who knows how heavy a sleeper she was? Usually I had some music playing... or I hummed along to my tune... but tonight, silence.

Silence for Diana.

Every time that I had tried to write anything, my thoughts droned back to her. Was she okay? What was she dreaming of? How was she going to get out of here?

How was her mother reacting? She must be worried out of her mind!

Tomorrow, the rose dress would be by Diana's side. Her shoes would be shined, and she would have a fresh pair of high socks to wear. I would ask her what she wanted to do with her old dress.

I couldn't work. It was no use. I put away my papers and stored my pen in it's case.

I can't work, I can't sing... what was I going to do all night?

It was only nine o'clock. The convenience stores would be open... and I needed to get some things for Diana. I am pretty sure she would like to eat everyday. Three times a day. Maybe more. All I knew how to make was Dutch food... and only supper foods.

I knew what little girls liked. I have watched countless advertisements on the streets saying the food products 'were good for the kids, but they don't know it!' I know this is probably a scam, but I have learned over the years what they may actually like.

But how to make it? Where to get it? I have never had the need for breakfast items... especially normal breakfast items.

Maybe I would get a cooking book... to learn how to make more non-foreign foods. It may help me. I may be able to branch out of my rut and eat something French or, for some odd reason, American.

I had always wanted to go to America. To see what it was like. Did they also hate others because of their differences?

Letting my thoughts wander, I slipped on my heavy black cloak, my full mask, and my leather gloves. It makes me wonder if I draw more attention to myself when I wear my full mask. Nobody else wore such nice clothes, either. But, nobody ran or tried to kill me, so I guess the mask is a success.

LIST

1: Flour

2: Eggs

3: Butter

4: Pancake mix

5: Oranges

6: Uncooked bacon

7: Syrup

I had no idea what half of the things on my list were. 'Pancake mix'? What is a pancake? I think I am going to have a _good _time making things I never made before. Not.

So I headed out, list hid in one of my jacket pockets.

The streets were not as crowded as they were during the day. Most stands had closed for the night. But I was going for a convenience store.

I walked past Benny's shop. I was surprised to see the lights still on, the 'open' sign still hung in the window. Worried, I tried opening the door, and the handle slid down and let me enter. I closed the door.

"Benny?" I shouted calmly, "are you here?"

"Aye, Shadow! I be in the back! C'mere!" I heard a yell from behind the back door.

So I stepped carefully behind the counter through a swinging door. I sauntered to the wooden door and opened it slowly.

I saw Benny... holding a clipboard and searching the wall shelves. He was doing inventory.

"Hey, Shadow! What ye be doin' here at dis late hour? Ye only shop here once a week, one day!" He looked up at me, and smiled. His was half hearted.

"Well... if ye really care... me financial position be not the best at dis moment. With the new girl... and I was already a wee lost with me bills and..." he sighed, "I think I may have to send back some of this inventory... open late and... in worse case scenario..."

"What?" this worried me. Benny was so nice... why did he have to struggle?

"I may have to close me ol' shop."

I was flabbergasted. "Close the shop? Bram! This is the most authentic Dutch shop around! I can't find any of the things that I find here anywhere else!"

"I know... but da bills just keep pilin' up on me desk... with no payin' in sight!" Benny sighed once more, "I'll keep me shop open late... but when the time comes... I think I may put up the 'closed' sign... for good."

"Bram... how much money can you possibly owe? You never told me you were having financial problems before..." I stood next to him, seeing that there was an inventory sheet on the clipboard. I noticed that they had unusually large amounts.

"I didn't have any issues with me money before... until me son made a mistake with the inventory. He ordered a hunerd jars of this stuff, not da ten dat I asked him to get! He added another zero!"

"Well..." I put my hand on his shoulder, "Since you have so much... maybe you can sell it and make more money!"

"Shadow..." He showed me the paper on his board, "look at what that stuff is."

Oh God. "Of all the things that your son could have made a mistake on... he messes up on the _pickled fish chum?_" That was only used as a secret ingredient to thicken certain things and add a fishy taste.

"I know! He is usually such a bright bright boy too!"

I chuckled as he smiled. The smiles and laughs faded as quickly as they came.

"I have to pay the company for a huner' of these jars!" he checked something off of his sheet.

I sighed. He was my only real friend. The only one who stuck with me through thick and thin. He was not only a food cashier, he also knew me as a child. He had found me running under the opera with madame Giry. He let me talk to him when I had nobody else to talk to. And he never gave advise, which is what I wanted, for he only knew Dutch. He knew English, but he could not speak it.

"How much money do you need?"

He looked at me. "Don't ye think of givin' me money."

"Why not?"

"Because, Shadow... It isn't manly to take help from another man's wallet."

"It isn't manly to close your shop either, let me help!"

"No! It also isn't polite! Ye have a right to yer own money!"

"Bram! You said it yourself! I have money, and in order to find a woman, I need to make it known. Remember that little conversation?"

"Exactly! Ye should use yer money to get a woman!"

I rolled my eyes. "Bram.. that isn't going to happen. You know that I can't get a woman because of my... face."

"Yer face just be minor. Ye can get a woman!"

"BRAM! I... I don't think that the same women that hunt me, are going to date me."

"Maybe they be huntin' ye to date ye!"

"Bram! No they aren't! And. You. Know. It. Let me give you the money. How much do you need?"

Benny sighed. "I guess you is gonna give me da money, aren't you?"

"I have to help my only friend. I want to help my only friend. I helped you open this store, I am going to help you keep it open." I had payed for half of the expenses to start the shop. When Benny had bought his first piece of stock, I had paid for it. I have the money from my salary at the opera. A hefty lump of cash was stored in my personal savings.

"Well... I owe the company..." he calculated something on his sheet, "ye sure ye wanna help?" He looked at me with eyebrows slanted together.

"Yes! I have. The money."

"I owe dem two hunr'd fifdy three smack-a-roonies."

"Pht! I can pay that right now!" I dug into my pocket.

"Oh, Shadow. Ye don't need to- hey!"

I threw the money at him. He frantically caught it. "One hundred fifty.

One hundred seventy" I counted as I literally tossed it at his chest.

"Shadow!" his hands frantically grabbed at the paper cash, "ye don't need to do this!"

"I want to Benny. Two hundred ten. Two hundred thirty."

"Shadow-"

"Two hundred fifty."

The money lay down at his feet. He stared at it. "And for the heck of it, Three hundred dollars."  
I threw one more bill at his chest. He caught this one, and looked at it.

"Five hundred." I threw yet another bill.

"Shadow! Five hundred?"

"To pay for that new baby of yours. Here, have-"

"No! No more, Shadow... I got enough money to pay for the army!" Benny bent down and picked up the money in a neat pile. I smiled and put my leather wallet back in my deep pocket.

Benny stood back up. "You didn't have to do any of this for me."

"I wanted to."

Benny looked at me with his big wet eyes. They reminded me of a puppies. His chubby face helped to create that look of 'thank you'.

That was when I was sucked into a big hug. "Thank you, Erik Thomas. You are a kind soul, no matter what they say."

I heard crying in his voice. I awkwardly hugged him back with slow arms. I wasn't used to people crying on my shoulder. Especially out of a thank you or love.

I sighed. It was awkward to hug a chubby man wearing dirty clothing, but I made an exception for Benny.

He detached from me, and breathed heavily to regain his stature. "I'm sorry, Erik..." he straightened his clothes, "but this moves me, you know?"

"Yes... I guess..." My eyebrows were knit together through this conversation.

Why was I so awkward? I never felt this way when I was talking to-

DIANA! I FORGOT!

"Benny, as much as I want to talk to you about your feelings..." I looked at my wrist watch. Ten after one. Oh shoot! "I must depart."

"Well... I could make ye something to eat... oh wait-"

"I don't eat" We both chuckled as I finished the sentence.

"Why ye need to leave? You got a lady-" He began to say slyly.

"Actually, I do." This would be fun. Fooling Bram into thinking I had a girl.

"WELL! Ye just got done saying ye could never get no girl! And now ye went out and got yerself one!"

"Yes. You want to come and meet her?" Then my emotions kicked in. Oh no.

"Well, ya! Bring the lass over here tomorrow... now I will be open!"

"Ah, forget tomorrow... lets go see her right now!"

"I wouldn't want to intrude on de lady's sleep."

"Ah, she is a night owl like me. She is awake."

"Well... awright! Where to?" He looked anxious.

"To my usual cave... where else?"

His look of curiosity faded. "Ah... that old place... I haven't been there in so many years."

"I know... but you'll be alright."

"Ye sure? Is nobody gonna be trying to kill you?"

"They think I'm dead. They were losing business because of me, so the new manager told everybody that I had been killed."

"Good gimmick. So... ye want to go now... or later?"

"Now... Diana will enjoy your visit."


	11. Groceries

I guided him down the safer entrance to my cave. He stumbled down the stairs, while my feet gracefully stepped from one step to the next.

"Aye... I can't imagine walking up these stairs every day just to get outside!"

"I don't... there is a long ladder leading up to behind the opera house... we usually use that entrance."

"So ye want to overwork me, eh?"

"No.. no... it's just that... there are some certain _circumstances _that prevent us from using that _particular _entrance right now.

"And what exactly?"

I paused, thinking. How could I stall him? I couldn't tell him about the real Diana. The trick would be ruined.

"Er... uh... heh-heh!Look! We're here..." I stepped carefully from the last step to the stone floor. He tripped and he had to regain his stature before we moved on.

"Well.. where is the pretty lass? Tell me, Shadow... is she a sight for sore eyes?" he nudged me on my shoulder.

I laughed quietly. "She certainly is a cutie. Blondie."

"Ho-ho-HO!" he smiled at me.

This would disappoint Bram, but he needed to learn to stop pestering me about a woman!

"Follow me... and be very quiet" I grabbed his wrist and pulled him through my lair. He looked foolish trying to tip-toe. He was a bigger, older man, and he looked clumpy even when he tried to be gentle. I, on the other hand, was quiet, for I usually walked carefully... quietly. The only time I ever walked clumsily, it was a mere clicking of my shoe. Benny's feet were more like stomping.

We reached the door that hid Diana from us.

"I guess she fell asleep... oh well... we can see her while she sleeps, yes? She does not turn invisible..." I urged the nervous-looking Benny.

"Er... ye sure yer lass wouldn't mind? Not even a wee bit?" he whispered.

"Not at all. She is a heavy sleeper. Still, just in case, be quiet."

The door silently slid open. The massive wood doors have never squeaked. At least, not as long as I could remember...

"There she is."

Diana slept still. Her high-pitched, long breaths were the only sound. The room was dark, so you could only see black. No windows, obviously. If there were windows, the golden moonlight would have showed the few features in the room as a dim silhouette. Including Diana.

"She sounds young, Shadow..." Benny's voice was near silent. I had amazing hearing, so his voice was audible. I thanked him silently for his cooperation in being quiet.

"Younger than you would imagine..." I smiled in the darkness.

I felt a small pat on my back. Benny's chuckle of congratulations was near inaudible, even for me.

She _was _younger than what he had imagined. Technically, I wasn't lying to Bram at all... I had a woman. Even if she wasn't a woman quite yet. She was a cutie. She was blonde. She was younger than me... so there were no lies involved.

"Shadow... it's dark. I can't see her..."

"Ah... well... maybe I can light a little candle."

I slowly stepped across the room, feeling for the wax candle. Once I discovered it's location, I reached inside my jacket pocket, and took out my match box. I swiped one match against the side of the box.

A dim light filled the room. I could see the features of Benny's curious face, looking at me. I looked over at Diana. She still slept on her back. One of her hands were placed at the level of her eyes.

Ironic, yet again.

Her other arm extended under the blankets to her left.

Then Benny looked at her.

His face turned from curiosity to shock. His eyebrows knitted together after they had risen up on his forehead. His mouth turned downward after it had closed. His eyes squinted after they had relaxed from being too wide.

"SHADOW!!!! SHE IS THREE!!!" Benny yelled.

Oh no! Benny stared at me while I stared at Diana. I waited for her to wake up. My mouth hung agate, my eyes slanted upward. Diana merely stirred in her sleep, making a little squeak as she turned her head to the side without the bump.

"Benny!" I whisper-yelled, "are you trying to wake her?!"

Benny walked over, not bothering to be quiet, and grabbed my forearm. He guided me out of the room with force.

I chuckled as he grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards him.

"PHANTOM!" He whisper-yelled, "She is... is..."

"My woman. She is younger than you expected, she is a cutie, she is blonde-"

"And you are a PEDOPHILE!"

I laughed. "I'm not dating her, Bram!"

"What?"

"She is not a _woman_... but a girl. She is mine."

"Yours? What do ye mean?"

"She fell down here... she hurt herself... I am helping her... she is mine now."

"Shadow... just because you care for her wounds don't mean she be yours."

"I know... I-here, follow me" I walked towards my tailoring room. I heard Benny's clunky footsteps follow mine.

I closed the door behind me as Benny hurried in the room.

"She yours? What ain't ye telling me 'bout not having a woman, Shadow?"

I smiled. "She is not blood. She is... not... adopted either... she-"

"YE STOLE HER?!"

"Depends how you look at the issue at hand."

"WHAT DID YE DO?!"

"She... fell down here... she was punctured with glass... she hurt herself falling... and now she is in my care..."

"Phantom... ye gotta find the girl's daughter. How do ye even know she be safe?"

"Well... I knew her from... France's Garden. She talked to me and I helped her to find her mom. She is a sweet little girl-"

"Shadow! Ye didn't even trust me when I came into ye life!"

"She is different... I have some sort of special connection with her now. I cannot let her go. She cannot leave!" I stomped over to my wooden desk, leaning on my hands and leaned into them.

"Well... what is this feeling ye be having?"

"It's not a feeling... it's a fact."

"What?"

"She saw my mask, Benny."

"Oh no!" He began to say sarcastically. He walked over to my desk where my half mask lay. He picked it up, and let his face fall into a state of shock, "It be so horrible! Vile, even!"

I smiled, still staring down a my desk. "No Benny... she saw... behind the mask."

Then Benny looked at me with a serious expression as he put my mask down. "Aye... she really can't leave, can she?"

"No. She is two... she will blurt out everything she has seen... I will go out and search for her mother in the morning... first... I need to get all of this stuff." I pulled out my shopping list.

"Well... c'mon! Now that I know ye be a daddy, I'll give ye a discount!" he turned towards the exit.

"Ah... Benny... after all of the years of my business with you... alas, I must go to a different store for what I search."

"What? Lemme see dat list" he grabbed it from my hand.

"Aye... I ain't got none of this stuff... what ye need it for?"

"Diana... she may want to eat like a normal human."

Benny chuckled. "Ye know what Shadow? Ye stay here with her. Ye need to protect her. I will go get the groceries. Ye have pride as a Phantom! Ye shouldn't be stepping foot in a dump such as a convenience store!"

"Benny-"

"You are keeping my store alive. The least that I can do is get yer groceries. And _I am paying_."

"No... I pay!"

Benny stood there, list in hand. Then he turned and ran out the door. He was fast for a portly man.

I stood there, cloak draped over my shoulders. I slowly walked out of the room and into the main foyer. I let my feet stand in the very shallow part of my lake. I sighed, and let my eyes close. My cloak dragged in the water as I stepped further into the lake. I stopped when the water was at middle of my shin.

The water was cool. Somehow it was never too cold for m. It never got warm or hot. But that was obvious. I sighed once more and my head hung back to the ceiling.

Then there was a tug on my sleeve. I was in some sort of a trance... that I barely noticed.

"Erik?"


	12. Lies Bonds Tears

"Diana! You mustn't be up so late..." I whispered as I turned my head to face her.

"I woke up" she stepped next to me. I almost laughed because the water was up to her stomach.

"Obviously... did I wake you? Or the other man?"

"Other man?"

"Never mind that... how did you wake, young one?"

"You."

DARN IT! Why was EVERYTHING that I did... wrong in someone's life?! "Oh... I am so sorry... I shall be more quiet-"

"No... in my head... you were in my head when I slept."

"You mean... you were dreaming of me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why did it wake you? Did it scare you?"

"No."

"Well then why are you standing here next to me?"

Then her body was pushed against mine, causing me to stumble a little. Her little arms wrapped around my legs. Her head was leaning against the side of her knee.

"Er..." I stood there... not knowing quite what to do. What was she doing?

"I felt sad."

"About what?"

"You. That was what woke me. I had a dream that you were sad."

"Really?"

"Yes... you were standing in the water, like you are now, and you were crying. I was running towards you, but I could not move. My yells were silent..."

"Stop" I turned towards her. I covered my face with my hand, and kneeled down besides her. She faced me with that innocent look on her face, "little girls should not have dreams like that. Especially about me. I can be sad. I am supposed to be sad. You should not. In fact..." I had to do some serious, quick thinking about what I was going to say next. "I want you to.. go home yo your mother."

The innocent look turned to one of shock and sadness. "What?"

"Being down here... it is getting to your mind... It is tainting your innocent life."

"NO! No it isn't! I like it down here!"

"You should not! See? If you were not brain-washed, would you think this-this... cave is nice? This darkness? This pit deeper than HELL!"

Silence. The last part echoed throughout the strings of caves that we were in. I had said it so loud. Then I sighed.  
"See? I am also not a person to hang around with..."

After her silence wore off, she spoke softly. "Why not?"

"I'm mean. I'm disturbed. I am not a... normal person..."

Then her wide blue eyes looked into mine, and my sentence trailed off. Her little, gentle hand lay over mine. Her fingers intertwined with my outstretched ones. Hers were so... tiny... She gently pulled my hand down and put it in front of her. She stared down at my hand.

Then what she did next scared me. She raised my large hand with her tiny one, and closed her eyes. My eyes gazed at her every move as she placed my hand on one side of her face. She spread my fingers to see.

"I wants to be just like you."

My eyes opened wide. My mouth dropped open. My body shook. What... did she... just say? She wanted to be just like me? The Phantom Of The Opera is her idol? She is idolizing someone who killed her father. She is idolizing someone who... is alone and hateful.

"What?"

"We are alike-"

"NO! No. We-we-we-we- we are NOT alike... no no no no.... complete opposites..." I wanted to pull my hand down, but there was some force. Some force keeping it there. Her force.

God, what was this feeling? This feeling... that... made me shiver. Made me shiver right then and there. Sit still. But it felt... good. Somewhat good. The other half felt... scared? No... something else.

"Yes we are. I am weird... you are weird. I have a deformity, you have one-"

"NO!"

"YES! I like to dress nice, you do too!"

"NO! NO RE-RE-RESEMLENCE!"

"YES! I LIKE MUSIC, SO DO YOU!"

"NO! PLEASE! STOP!"

This was when I got up and ran. I heard her splashing and yelling behind me, following me.

"YES! I AM ALONE, SO ARE YOU! WE ARE BOTH ALONE! THAT IS WHAT MAKES ME WANT TO STAY! YOU. KNOW. WHAT. IT... Is... like..." She started yelling. After she said she was alone, I stopped running. Alone? What did she mean? Then she said I knew what it was like. Gee... what could she possibly know? What it felt like to loose everything? She was yelling, then her sentence trailed off.

"What? HA! Yes... you know what it is like! What it feels like to loose everything that you have worked for?! To loose the only... affection... that you have... ever... gotten..."

Then I cried. She was the only compassion that I have ever received. Then that... fool... came in and took her away from me.

"WHY?" I simply yelled. I fell down to my knees. This feeling was horrible. How do I get it to GET AWAY?!

"Erik..." Diana walked over to me. I saw her bare, bandaged feet from my hanged head. "This is what you looked like in my dream."

Then I stopped. Everything. Crying. Breathing. The only thing that worked was my thinking.

I was sad in her dream. I was not willing to take help. I was in the water.

This got me thinking. Was this my life? Sitting and moping? Hoping for it all to end? All I did was write music and cry. Cry for things that I thought I was over. I can't leave life. That was what they wanted. I would never give them the satisfaction of winning. NO! Let go of your ego for one time! I never think out Christine anymore. Only when it comes up in a comment, I cry. I remember. The pain... the twisted emotions. I had never felt love before.

That feeling. I knew what it was now. It was... love. Affection... caring... the draw between two hearts that would never be broken. Was I... falling in love with Diana?

No... this was different. The draw in my heart was not of marriage or eternal loving. It was for... I don't know. All I did know was that Diana is hard to leave. It was like the bond in my heart was being torn... broken.

Then I choked. I guess every human being needs air to live, even a monster. I breathed heavily. Diana was in front of me, standing.

"I do know what it is like. I am alone now. Momma is gone. Papa is gone. I gots no one. You are the only one that I can have now" she didn't move, but a small drop of water splashed against the lake. A tear. She was crying. Great.

"What happened to your mother?" I still looked down at her feet, not wanting to move. Her face would be sad. As confused and upset as I was, I knew that I didn't want to see hr depressed face. That question that I just asked... was the only thing that I could think of to say.

"Everything that I told you about me falling down here was true. Why I ran behind the opera house, was not."

"Well... tell me."


	13. Leaving Me Is Best

"My momma. She was the one screaming. When we left the opera... a strange man walked up and started talking to my momma. My momma was grabbing my arm, so I knew that she wanted me to be careful. This man was not safe. He talked with a weird slurring and he kept stumbling."

Drunken idiot.

"Then he got mad at somethin' and started yelling. My momma started running away... but the man grabbed her purse. He started to run away with it. My momma started to chase him. He ran behind the opera. After I heard momma scream, I ran after her. Then I fell in the glass and fell down here."

"So... do you know what happened to her?"

"I have a bad feeling 'bout what happened."

Silence. I had a bad feeling in my stomach. This poor girl had heard her mother get killed.. and knew it.

"Was it worth it chasing after the purse?"

"That purse has a picture of my daddy holding me. Also, one hundred dollars from my grandparents."

"Hm. So it was special. Why did they send you the money?"

"Cuz they felt bad about my daddy, so they have been sending us money every week since he died."

"That is another reason why you shouldn't stay with me. I... killed... your father."

She sighed. "Well I am here now. There is nowhere else to go. What are you going to do? Send me out on the street? I can, if you really don't want me here..."

"I want you here... but you... can't be here. I'm a bad person. It would be like a little duckling living with a hungry lion."

"Peep Peep!" she stared at me smiling, "this is when you go 'roar!'"

I gave her an exasperated smile. "You... need to stay here."

"YAY! YOU-"

"NO! Not like that... I need to go get something... You do not move."

I ran into the tailoring room and took my full mask. I pulled it on as I climbed up the ladder.

"Where are you-"

Then I closed the door. I heard the glass crunch under my feet as I speed walked behind the opera house.

Then there was no more crunching. I turned the corner...

Oh. Oh God...

A body... oh God. I ran over to the woman. She was not bloody, but there were pieces of glass pierced in the sole of her shoe. At least they had not hurt her feet.

Her face was white, her eyes at half-staff. She lay on her back. Her clothes were not blood-stained or disfigured. She looked as if.. she was merely sleeping.

I checked her pulse. Nothing. I kept at it, laying my hand over her chest now. Nothing.

I kneeled at her side. This was definitely Diana's mother. The hair, the... cold...sad...dead face.

Who would do this? Who would end a life over...something... stupid...

Come to think of it... why do I kill? The reasons aren't that important... the music wasn't right. The actors displeased me. I was not a rational killer. And neither was the drunken idiot that killed her.

"Erik?"

I turned. Diana.

"Diana..."

"That's mommy."

"I know."

Diana sat still. She stood, eyes closed.

I stood up and ran up to her. I swept her into my arms. She hugged me back.

"It's okay... it' okay..." I felt her tears on my shoulder. I put my hands on the small of her back and lifted her up. I stood and let her legs wrap around my chest. She crossed her ankles to keep her legs still. Her arms wrapped around my neck as her head lay on the hollow of my neck. She sat on my hands and I walked slowly away from her mother, letting a tear slide down my face. I heard her whine and cry.

I never had a true mother. When my mother died, I almost danced on her grave. I hated her. Diana only had her mother for comfort. Diana loved her. She lost someone close to her, and she was two. She shouldn't have to deal with any of this at this age.

I walked around the main square, letting Diana cry on my shoulder. Then the familiar iron gates passed us. I stepped on the long, rocky path to the gondola in the middle of the garden.

I sat on the iron bench. Diana's arms were still clasped to my neck.

"Diana... I'm so sorry..."

Whine.

"I know you loved her."

Sigh.

"I guess... I can't get on your same page... I wouldn't know what it feels like to lose someone you love. At least, not love like a family."

"You-you- don't?"

"No..."

"You didn't have a momma?"

"I shouldn't talk about it to a child."

"Erik... I have been through a lot. I understand things that other children don't."

"Your right."

"Tell me about your mother."

I sighed. "I know one thing. She hated me. She loathed me. For my face. Actually... she died before I ran away, and I did laugh. I am mean... but she... was so mean to me."

"You poor man... you were treated so horribly. You still are..." Her small hand touched my mask. She now looked into my eyes. Her eyes turned from soft, to shock. "Your eyes!"

"What about them?"

"Have you ever looked at them in a mirror or focused on them?"

"No... I never had the need to."

"One is a light blue," she touched one side of my face, "and the other is a deep green."

I smiled. "I don't have two different colored eyes."

She smiled wide, "yes you do!"

"No!" I chuckled.

"Yep!"

We laughed as we 'argued'. It seemed to cheep her up a little.

"What did your mother do to you?" the feeling between us became serious once again.

"That's the thing. She didn't do a thing. She didn't fed me, care for me... I spent most of my time with the love of my life before I ran."

"Who did you love?"

"A beautiful lady called music."

"Why do you like music, anyway?"

"I'm good at it. It is the only thing that I do that people like. That people accept."

"Well... there must be something else. Think."

Why did I like music? It had been my life since I was nine. Why had I kept with it?

"I think... because it lets me vent out. Music allows me to say things that I never would be able to. It allows me to see my true feelings... my true thoughts."

"Wow," she smiled, "deep."

"I guess... why do you like music? Why do you like the opera?"

"It sounds pretty. That is about it."

"C'mon. There must be some deeper reason... perhaps something with your father?"  
She looked down. She did not look sad, but deep in thought.

"My father did like to sing to me when I could not sleep. I remember as a baby... he always sung some rhythm. Never any lyrics. He believed that lyrics took away from the essence of music..."

Then she began to hum. An unfamiliar, sweet rhythm filled my ears. Her tiny voice was so... nice to hear.

"He usually hummed that to me when I had a bad dream."

I closed my eyes. "You are alone now."

"Yes."

"Is... is there anyone you could go to...?"

"The only people are my grandparents... and they live in America."

I sighed. "Can you live with them?"

She looked at me. "I have no way of contacting them other than a phone."

"You know that I... don't hate you, right?"

"Then why do you want me to leave?"

Great. "It is for your own good. You just saw your mother's corpse. That was because of me. You are injured. That was because of me-"

"How?"

"I threw the glass plates that made the shards. I thought rain was coming, but I was wrong."

"Why did you break the plates?"

"To get rid of them."

"That makes sense... if I get a phone, I can call them."

"Okay..."

We sat in silence.

"You really like me, don't you?" I looked at her. She looked back with clear blue eyes.

"Yup."

"I know why... no need to explain."

Silence again. "Let's go find a phone, Daddy."

I froze. Eyes wide. What? "Er... I'm not your dad, Diana. I never will be."

"I'm sorry... it just slipped out" she stood up, allowing me to get up.

"Just call me Erik or Phantom, okay?" I felt my breathing get heavier. Daddy? She was getting too attached. She needed to go.

"There is a phone in the main square..." Diana stood up, "I have fifty cents... will you come with me?"

"Of course... there may be muffins along the way" I chuckled, letting her smile.

And so we slowly walked along. Diana did not skip or run like she did when we first met. She was sad... and I knew it.

Why could she not understand that what I was doing was for the best? She was a little girl... she needed to live in a normal place. Not one of darkness or dread. She needed to be able to go outside and feel the sunshine on her face as she played with her friends. She could not do that with me... she couldn't do anything with me... I was under qualified. Her grandparents had obviously raised children before. She had never told me if they were her mother's parents or her father's, but either way they raised someone. I had not. I would have no idea what to do with her... they would. It was for the best that she was leaving me.

"Grandma?" Diana spoke into the receiver, "I'm doing good. Yea! It was pretty awesome! I like Paris. Oh... I'm sorry... well, yes. I need you to pick me up. Yes here is France. Well... daddy has been gone, and now mommy is gone... I gots nowhere to go. Okay... no, I have a place to stay until you come. I gots money... okay... I will see you tomorrow. I love you too." And she hung up.


	14. Whoa

She stared at me. Then she looked down. "They will be here tomorrow. I really do have money to stay in a hotel..."

"No... you stay with me one more night. I can't let a little girl stay at a hotel on her own" I grabbed her hand and we began walking. I didn't know where.

"Says the man who is kicking me out..." she mumbled. I let it slip.

She stopped before the doors of the Opera House. "You... aren't afraid to go in?"

"The house is not yet open. No body is here..." I opened the doors for Diana, and she stepped in. I followed behind her.

"I thought those doors were locked!" She yelled quietly. She acted as if she was in a fine library.

"Shh..." I smiled. She giggled.

We stepped softly down the first foyer.

It was now when there was a small 'thump!' behind me. I turned, only to see nothing. I let my eyes scan the room before me. Diana then pulled on my sleeve, and I was urged to leave.

But I kept the hand that was not occupied by Diana on my sword. Ever since Raoul and the sword fight... I always kept sword on hand. I always wanted them to come back... just to see how they turned out. But... they were dead.

We walked down the long, spiraling staircase to get to my lair. She hummed, so it echoed eerily down the halls. It was an unfamiliar tune... but so beautiful.

When we reached the water, she stepped carefully to the stone grounds.

Then I remembered. The rose dress! It still sat in my tailoring room...

"You are dirty... you need a new dress," I lay my hand on her back, "follow me."

She walked with me to the room. There was an awkward tension now. She was not smiling and giddy. Nor was I. Then again... I never was.

"Close your eyes" I said to her quietly. She did. She had long eyelashes for a child.

I guided her into the room and stood her in front of the dress.

"Open."

I saw her eyes slowly open. The emotion in her eyes turned from sadness to surprise. Her lips turned up in a smile. Then her eyes turned from surprise to... well, I don't know. I had never seen it before...

Her eyes still locked on the dress, her mouth hung agate in a smile.

"Oh..." then she made an odd sound that sounded like a bird's low chirp, "Oh... my... It's... It's..."

I tensed. What did she think of the slightly Gothic dress?

"BEAUTIFUL!" She ran into it and hugged it. "I LOVE IT!"

I sighed and smiled in relief. She obviously liked it. "You can change in there," I pointed to a little, enclosed room next to my desk. It was dark, if I hadn't put a lit candle inside.

She screamed... excitedly? Then grabbed the dress off the manikin. She tugged and she tugged... but the dress did not come off. I chuckled and grabbed her little arms from behind. I had knelt down behind her and smiled. She stopped moving and merely stared at it, wonder in her eyes.

"I will get it for you" I said softly to her. She smiled back.

"Good idea."

I stood up and pulled the back zipper down. Diana hopped happily into the room as I handed it t her. I leaned on the wall opposite of the room. I heard little shrieks and grunts from the room.

Then silence.

"Er-ik?" I heard a quiet, innocent little voice call.

"Yes?"

She stepped out of the room, her hands behind her back. "Help?" She turned, and her hands held the two pieces of fabric separated by the zipper together.

"Come here," I knelt down on my knee, "I will zip it up for you."

She stumbled over to me and turned her back to me.

I smiled. "You can let your hands down, dear."

"It might fall."

I held the fabric where her little hands were. "I have it. You can let go."

And she did.

I zipped up the dress and clipped over the zipper cover fabric. "Okay. It is ready."

She turned around and smiled. "Does it look good?"

She did look... cute. It was a different color on her. It looked happier. "Very good."

I stood once again and hurriedly stepped over to my desk. There lay her shoes and her socks. I picked them up and walked back over to Diana. She got the hint when I smiled at her and held them out to her. She sat down abruptly and slipped the socks up to the middle of her shins. She slipped on the shiny black shoes that buckled over her feet with a single strip of shiny leather. Once again she stood on her feet, her hands on her sides.

Then her eyes widened as she looked at me. She smiled wider.

"What?"

She stepped over to me. She grabbed my hand and pulled it up to her chest. She pulled off my leather glove. She did the same to my other hand. I smiled. What was she doing? She then held her hands up. She jumped, trying to reach for my neck or something. I picked her up and she wrapped her arms around my neck. She grabbed for the clip on my cloak. I put her down and unclipped it myself. I fell to the ground with a soft 'thump!'. She walked behind me where the cloak lay, and picked it up. It was so large, she looked like a giant ball of black fabric.

She pulled the gloves over her hands and wiggled her fingers. A look of confusion on her face, she changed the gloves to the different hands, realizing that the gloves had a specific hand that that it went on. She then pulled the cloak over her chest and clipped the cloak together. She then pulled it over her back. It hung over her body.

"WATCHA!" she flipped the cloak over her shoulder, like I did when I wanted to add dramatic effect. She had a look of fierceness on her face. Then she smiled as the cloak revealed her dress. The gloves looked too big on her. It looked cute.

"Wow... looks good!" I smiled. She opened and closed her fist in front of her. The cloak was far too long, piling up on the ground in a large pile. The opening where it hung over my neck, hung over her shoulders.

She laughed. "I like it! A lot! The dress reminds me of a rose!"

I smiled. "Really? You certainly are a smart one."

Then I remembered something.

"Come with me" I held my hand out to her. She grabbed it tentatively. I led her to a little box that lay on my desk.

I opened it. In there, lay a pair of black gloves that went up to the wrists. They were only black, but silk.

I picked them up. "Here. These may fit better than my giant ones" she grabbed them when I handed them to her.

"Why do you have these?" She slipped them on. They went up to her forearm.

"Well... when I had Christine around... I made these to match her dress..."

"Christine?" she looked at me "dress?"

"Oh yes. You never heard the real story have you?"

"No. I have heard the story of Christine Daae and The Phantom... but they said you killed her..."

"Lie."

"Really?"

"Yes. People exaggerate true stories to make entertainment out of misery."

"What is the real story, then?"

"Come sit," I put my hand on the small of her back, "I will tell you."

She walked with me out to my bedroom. I sat her down on my bed, while I put a chair next to the bed and sat down.

"Hm... I should tell this into a perspective that you will understand..." I pondered. What kind of stories to little girls understand?

"Okay. Once upon a time... there was a monster. He was cruel and mean and ugly. He lived alone in the catacombs under the... castle of the Princess... what is a good princess name?"

"Pretty! Princess Pretty!" She smiled as she snuggled under the blankets.

I laughed. "Okay. Princess Pretty. She certainly was pretty..."

She was intrigued. How was I going to put this?

"The monster's life evolved around... books. He loved to read and he was an amazing author of many stories. Since he lived under the castle of Princess Pretty, hiding from people, he heard many stories of aspiring authors. But none were pleasing. At least, not as pleasing as a new voice's story. The monster looked up... to see Princess Pretty. She was reading one of her beautiful, detail-enriched stories. She had written it herself... and the monster couldn't stop listening. It was the best writing that he had ever heard. Even better than his favorite author, Gaston Leroux. When she stopped reading, the monster's eyes opened, and he knew he loved her."

She stared at me with wonder. I wondered if she got the gist of the stories and their characters.

"The phantom-I mean monster... wanted nothing more than to have the girl. He would burn all of his books and stomp upon his writing pen for her. Everyone at the castle loved the monster's stories, and so did Princess Pretty. Hew thought he could drive her away from her newly discovered love, Prince..."

"Prince..." she looked around, knowing that I was looking for a name, "Candle!"

"Okay, Prince Candle. Prince Candle was not ugly or distorted like the monster. In fact, he was normal, rich, and quite handsome. Princess Pretty loved the Prince. But the monster had read her one of his many amazing stories, and she loved him too."

"She loves two men at the same time...? How? Isn't love for someone undivided?" she was engaged.

"It should. Like the love for Princess Pretty from the monster was. Anyway, when the monster realized there was someone else who was winning over him, he became furious. He attacked Prince Candle. He proposed a deal to Princess Pretty. He said that if she spent the rest of her life with him, then he would spare the Prince's life. But, if she chose to love the Prince Candle, the monster would kill him."

"Well... that is an obvious choice. The monster! What is the point of loving a dead man?"

"The monster thought so too. Then the Princess kissed the monster. The monster realized that the Princess did not want to stay with the deformed, demented, mean monster, and let her go with Prince Candle."

"Why?"

"All he ever wanted was to hear her stories. Then, after this whole ordeal, he realized that all he ever wanted was to let her be happy. He knew he could not give her the life of happiness and light that Prince Candle could. He realized... that... her stories were not her soul. Her soul was of life. The monster's soul was of death."

"But... his soul was not of death if he could love."

"I think so too."

"So... why did you tell me that story? What of the story of Christine Daae?"

"Well... I did."

"Huh?"

"Put things into perspective."

"Okay," she pondered my request, "you must be the monster..."

I smiled.

"Christine Daae must be Princess Pretty for you were attracted to her because of her voice... in this case her stories."

I smiled wider.

Then she squinted her eyes and her eyebrows knitted together fully. "Who was Prince Candle?" she looked at me.

"What is the story they told you?"

"That you took Christine Daae and killed her. That is about it."

"Hm. Well... there was another man that loved Christine. His name was..." I let my lip curl, "Raoul De-Chagney."

Her eyes widened. "Did you say... De-Chagney?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Do you still not like him?"

"I do not like the man."

"Then never mind."

I leaned towards her. "What do you know about him?"

"Well... a Raoul De-Chagney used to run the muffin stand that I go to. Then... he left. He told me he had run into some money. He said he was a 'vacome'. Whatever that is... He always gave my mom free muffins. My favorite too. Chocolate caramel swirl with white-chocolate chips. He knew that we were crunching for money, so I got things free. He was only seventeen... how old would he be now?"

"He would be twenty."

"How old are you?" then she looked down, "I'm sorry... I don't mean to be rude."

"It's okay. You are just curious... I am..." I pondered. How old was I? "I am twenty-three."

"So... she was... when this happened?"

"She was nineteen when all of this happened."

"You were... twenty-two... Raoul was nineteen... Christine was seventeen..."

"I know. Raoul also had the age advantage."

"Hey... don't feel bad about that... I used to have a crush on... a... five-year-old..."  
"What a sin!" I said sarcastically, "wait... crush? You are two!"

"Well... not exactly... I am three."

"Oh. Well that isn't too much of a difference. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I also figured it wasn't too much of a difference."

We sat in silence. Then where was a little shout, a splash and a yell from out side.

"SON OF A-" I heard someone say, "WHY DID HE PUT WATER HERE?!"

I laughed loudly. Poor old fool. I let my head fall towards the ceiling.

"Who is that?" she looked scared.

"Don't worry little one... it is merely my good friend. Follow me."

Instead of letting her walk, I picked her up in my arms.

I opened the door and saw the fat middle-aged man picking up the groceries. He was mumbling to himself.

"That is Bram. He is my friend... I asked him to pick up some groceries for me."

"Oh." she looked at him and smiled. Then she giggled at the struggling man. "Do you need any help, Bram?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Well... ain't no lass be calling me Bram since Denna and mes' first date! Especially no fine lass..." he walked over to her after he placed the bags on a dry piece of rock.

Diana smiled.

"So ye are Diana... Erik's girl?"

"Girl?" she looked at me.

"Inside joke..." I smiled at Benny.

Diana hinted that she wanted to go down. So I softly placed her on the ground before me. Diana walked over to Benny and held out her hand. "Yes, I am Diana. Quite a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Whoa... she be hangin' with ye for a day Shadow... and ye already got her all polite and fancy!" Benny bent down and kissed her hand.

"Shadow?" she looked at me.

"It's what Benny calls me. The Dutch Shadow."

"You're Dutch?"

"Yes."

"En Erik is trots op! Nederlandse is zeker iets om trots op te zijn! Diana is... Franse? Ik heb een aanwijzing over de oorsprong van deze naam niet." Benny stood and proudly held his head high.

I laughed at Diana's confused face.

"Benny... Diana natuurlijk weten niet Nederland. U oude vet belachelijk. Diana is Frans. U afscheid met "Ik heet u adieu". Ja, zij is een van de weaklings."

"WHAT?" she frowned.

We smiled. "That is Dutch, little one."

"What did Benny say?"

"And Erik is proud of it! Being Dutch is certainly something to be proud of! Diana is ... French? I have a clue about the origins of names."

Diana giggled. "I am French, Bram. What did you respond, Erik?"

I paused. Uh-oh. I didn't think that she would ask...

"You can tell me."

"Benny... Diana, of course, does not know Dutch. You old fool. Diana is French. She says goodbye with "I bid you adieu". Yes, she is one of the weaklings."

She cocked her head. "Well... I am a weakling..."

I sighed and smiled. "In Holland, where I am from, most consider the French to be... less stronger than us. I don't but Benny does."

"Well Benny... I will have you know... that the French can be strong."

"I know... some are..."

"Like Diana! You should have seen her! She made a dent in the wooden fence when..." I trailed off. When she was angry at me.

"When we had an emotional conversation."

"Ye punch the fence cuz ye angry?"

"I guess..."

"Well..." Benny stood awkwardly, "Yer groceries are right there... I'll be... leaving!"

Benny ran. I laughed. "He never was a good problem solver..."

Diana laughed at the pudgy man running up the stairs. "Groceries?"

"Well... I figured you may want to eat... so Benny got me some things."

"Really?" she looked at me nicely.

"Yes...?"

"That's so sweet!" she hugged me, "what did you get?"

"Uh... these things for making 'pancakes'?"

Her eyes widened.

"Little sausages and bacon... I think that was- ah!"

She hugged me again. "The last time I had pancakes was when I was one!"

"You didn't have teeth yet..."

"I know... it was mushed into a little bottle and I was fed with a spoon."

I laughed.

"I like pancakes..." she smiled.

"Good... do you know how to make them?"

"I thought you just add water to the mix and flip the little piles of mix and there you go!"

Well, that certainly sounded intelligent. "I'll figure it out... come help me."

Her face lit up and she smiled. "You want to cook now?"

"Why not?"

She laughed and ran past me and opened a closed door. After realizing it was a closet, she ran to another. She looked confused. I smiled at her excited expression.

"That is an art gallery."  
She looked into the dark room. It was probably pitch black for there was no candle inside.

"Can I look inside?"

Should I let her? Inside there were merely my best pictures of Christine, me killing Raoul, or outfit designs.

"Let's go figure out those pancakes first."

"Okay... where is your kitchen?"

I smiled. "Follow me."

She followed behind me as I opened the door to my kitchen.

"Whoa..." She walked in awestruck. "I have never seen so much of this...fancy rock..."

"You must mean granite" I smiled as she toured my kitchen.

"This dark, pretty wood..."

"You must mean... the... dark, pretty cabinets. They are oak."

Then she walked over to the edge of the counter-top

"Hey-hey! No-no-no-no...!" I rushed over to Diana and scooped her up as she reached for the knives. They were securely placed in a wooden container with slots, revealing only the handles, but it still made me uncomfortable. When she reached for them... it scared me. She could hurt herself or even scare herself with those knives. They were incredibly sharp... they could do more than just draw blood. Those could... gouge things...

"AH!" She was now in my arms. I had picked her up from behind by the hollow of her arms. She now just hung there, looking frightened. I stood as if my feet were glued to the floor.

What was this feeling? I was feeling a lot of unusual feeling lately. With Diana... brought new emotions, too. Then everything became foggy. Even the sound of our breathing, mine heavy, turned distant. I don't know how long it was until a new sound

Then there was a sweet mumble in my ear. It was as if I was in space, and someone was calling to me from a walkie-talkie. I couldn't understand it.

"Hm...?" I hummed absentmindedly.

"Erik?" I heard a foggy voice say.

"Wha-..."

"Erik?! Are you alright?" the voice was clearer now.

Then there was a feeling of... flight? No... that funny feeling that you get in your stomach when you are dropping from flight... That queasy, icky feeling that falling gives you.

My blurred surroundings turned black with a painful feeling in my head. Then my back felt as if it was breaking... then nothing. Absolutely nothing. No pain, no feeling... a feeling of numbness that felt horrible. My surroundings now were black. My hearing gone. The last thing that I heard was a sweet bell... or was it a voice? Or a chime?

I didn't know. All I knew was that... well... nothing. Nothing was working. I couldn't move. I only moaned breathy moans. Then a final...

Whoa.


	15. Delicate Tears

"Lak, Erik! Voor een man die alleen eet eenmaal per week uw zware!" I heard a fuzzy voice say. The voice groaned as if it was carrying great force, "Wat de Hell doen u eten, Nederlandse schaduw?"

I knew this voice. This was Bram... but what was he doing cursing and groaning?

Then there was a sharp pain in my neck. I groaned in pain... not able to do much more.

It was now when I realized... I felt like death. I didn't feel pain (except for my neck). I felt... like I was sick. That icky, spongy feeling that you get when you are ill.

"Good job... you hit his neck on the backboard!" a littler voice chimed in. This was... Diana? Yes... certainly.

Is that what happened? My neck was hit on the backboard? What backboard? Was I in bed...? No... wait... maybe... what was I doing? I remember... holding Diana...

"What did you say anyway?" Diana said.

"Aye... just saying how heavy he is... he only eats once a week..." he groaned as I felt a feeling of weightlessness in my legs, "how come he weighs this much!?"

"I don't- Watch out!" then there was a soft crash, "oh good job..."

"For a little girl you are very bitter..."

"I am sorry... I am just scared... what is wrong with him?"

"I don't know... what happened before he fainted?"

"He picked me up... then he just... fell."

"Did you fall with him?"

"No... he dropped me first..."

"Are ye feelin' alright?"

"Yes... but... is Erik?"

I moaned a breathy moan. Why couldn't I move? Hopefully she interpreted it as an "I don't know either."

"Erik? Can you hear me? Are you feeling okay?" Diana hurried to say. I felt her hands on my forehead. They were warm. Too warm. Or was I just too cold...?

I groaned a halfhearted "yes..." I couldn't feel my lips... only cold.

"Ye be feelin' alright, Dutchy?"

"Dutchy... that's certainly a new...ow..." now I felt my neck. It was stinging... and sore. And painful. "name..." I sighed.

"Well... I couldn't think of anything else when ye be frilly and Fren-" he cut off, probably realizing that a French girl was in the room, "I mean... down from the war, ye know what I mean?"

"Yeah..." I tried to sit up, put met Dian's small arms. She held me down gently.

"Don't stress yourself... you took quite a fall... Bram said that your back was hurt and now you neck is... thanks to _ someone_..."

"Hey... Erik is fatter than what he looks like!"

"Thanks, Benny..."

"You work out or somethin'?"

"Not exactly." This is when I opened my eyes to see Benny and Diana standing over me.

"How does your back feel?" Diana asked. She was obviously worried. I could see it in her eyes.

Then the pain set in. I had not noticed it before... until Diana mentioned it. My spine felt... broken. It felt as if one of my vertebrae had fallen out... with no anesthesia.

"What? Well... I don't feel anything-"

"HE'S NUMB! GET HIM TO THE-" Benny yelled. He looked scared out of his mind.

"No... Benny... I meant.... I feel no pain" I lied. It felt like Hell froze over. "What happened to my back?"

"Well... you fell backwards on your back on a cold, rock floor. That couldn't have been too comfortable" Diana explained to me. Ow... I guess that explains that.

I actually was missing a vertebrae in my spine. My third one from the bottom. I guess it was just another little quirk that I have.

"Hm..." I managed to moan as I closed my eyes again, "I have to be careful with my back... I am missing a piece of it."

"I guess that explains how stupid you are." Benny tended to joke and use sarcasm when he was concerned, scared, worried, or anything of the sort. I guess he felt as if he could not handle a serious emotion... I never really knew.

Diana giggled. I chuckled a breathy chuckle, seeing the humor in the conversation. I had never been a sarcasm person... but that didn't mean I didn't understand it or use it. When the time called for it... I knew what to say and how to say it. And Benny envied me for it.

"Benny... if I am stupid... then you are what we call in the music business, _ritardando_!"

Diana laughed harder. Benny only looked confused.

"Bram... ritardando means to slow down suddenly or gradually" Diana explained to Benny. Benny shot me a look that said 'you beat me, and I know it'. I smiled.

"Let me try to get up..." I leaned onto my elbows, "I feel fine as a feather."

"Okay... just be careful.. especially when you step onto the ground because-"

"We broke that vase... over there... and... there is that... shattered stuff on the... ground!" Bram tried to sound nonchalant. He was a horrible liar.

"What did you really break?" I sat up without my elbows. I stared him dead-on in the eye. I could have sworn I saw a bead of sweat drop from Benny's face.

"Er... You'll kill me... cuz ye be... you know, you."

I laughed. "You are right... I am me... but what did you break? I won't care... I can always go get another of whatever you broke."

"See... that's it... it's kind of an... antique..."

"You _did not_ break my Grandê lé Gè Ôread Mèdèlê vase..." I looked at him with venom in my eyes. I had that ability... to add venom or spice into the conversation with my eyes or face. Emotions have a lot of advantages and disadvantages with me... more disadvantages.

"No..." Benny looked nervous, "We broke ye mask, Shadow... when I banged ye neck on the headboard... it fell off."

I guess that that was the small cracking that I heard. Wait... My mask! "BENNY!" I yelled. I wasn't mad... but dumbfounded. Of all the things- oh yeah. I was me. I was the source of bad luck. I was the black hole of irony. I guess I was like a black hole in space. I was composed of tightly packed gases... evil and pain. I did not let anything escape, not even light or sound, once it became within my grasp. Hm. What a psychological discovery that may help me understand who I really am. It gets me thinking about my real soul... was it evil, or good?

Or... ice... or rock?

Then I snapped back. I looked at the cautious people staring back at me, awaiting my reaction. Should I be angry? The mask did take forever to make... but I also had a spare! But... that was my first. The first porcelain mask of Le Fantom De Le Opera. What should I do?

Whoa... I had never done that before... Never thought before I acted. I had always just yelled or attacked. Why was I thinking now? I NEVER THINK!

"Oh well..." I leaned over the bed to see the shattered remains of my precious mask, "I have another one..."

Benny's eye opened in disbelief. "What?"

"I said..." I sighed, "I have another mask. I knew my original would fall off and break sometime... plus, have you seen how many different styles of masks that I have? I have the black death mask, my white full mask, my famous half white mask, a half black mask, a white death mask, and a leather one that is so strong, not even you could eat it, Benny."

"Thanks Phantom... ye sure ye ain't angry...?" His other eye opened. Diana released her tense posture.

"No... and I don't know why..." I blinked.

Then silence. I got up from my bed, the side away form the broken glass, and stood in front of Diana. I kneeled to her face. "You _do not_ step over near that glass. If you want to leave the room, please ask Benny to carry you."

She nodded once. She looked scared. Her little fingers her gripping the lace at the end of her dress.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be this close without my mask..."

And before she could say anything, I was out of the room. I heard her call my name softly, but I did not respond. I knew my face scared her. It had to. She was two- no, three- she did not have the ability in her mind to see through ugliness. Or... did she?

I grabbed my spare mask from it's box. It was lined with velvet and protected with a thick layer of cotton stuffing. I slipped the protectors from the mask, revealing its shiny white surface. I stared at it for a moment. It was... brilliant... for a horrible thing, or course...

I returned to Diana and Benny within five minutes. I noticed that the glass was gone. They must've cleaned it up.  
I chuckled at the sight before me. A shaky Benny was trying to balance a little Diana on his shoulders. At first it was a funny sight. Then... Benny was wobbly. I began to become concerned when Benny was balancing on his left foot for a moment. I became truly scared when Diana screamed.

Then...

"TIMER!" Benny yelled as he fell.

This time I did not freeze. This time I did not faint. This time... I moved. Before Benny fell, only two feet from the ground, I grabbed Diana. She squealed with surprise-or fear- as I grabbed her from the hollow of her arms. Benny fell on his husky stomach with a low groan. Diana just hung there in my arms, frozen.

Benny slowly got up. He met my gaze with a sudden stop. This time I did not add the venom in my eyes. It was real. He did not know how _stupid _that was. It was a little girl! I could balance her on my PINKY FINGER!

"BENNY!" I yelled.

"I'm sorry Phantom..."

"No... no you're not!"

"Oh, be reasonable..."

"I AM!"

"Er-" Diana squeaked.

"Not now, Diana... _BENNY! _ Do you have any idea how important this little blonde girl is to me?! Do you know how much I would _die inside _if she got hurt? Do you have any idea what it is like? To _finally _have someone who _does see _behind the mask? BEHIND THE FACE? One that doesn't leave with another man? One that _thought _she could see behind my face, but discovered she couldn't? Not only that, discovered with another _man_ showing her what true love is? THAT MAN HAS NO IDEA! God... You have no idea. Why am I asking..." My voice cracked, "You have everything I want, Bram Thomas! A FAMILY! Children! A wife! Caring... compassion..." a tear slid down my face, "_why you ask was I bound and chained in this cold and decimal place... not for any mortal sake, but the wickedness of my insensible face!" _I dropped Diana softly on her feet. She looked up at me, eyebrows knitted together as I cried. I sang at a quieter tone... and a much slower, sadder tempo.

_"Hunted down by everyone, no compassion anywhere, no one listening to your cries... Chris...tine..."_

And I ran. I ran from the room. What else could a crying, scared man do? He was ashamed and felt ill.

I knew they would come after me. Not chase out of hate... but of caring. I needed to be alone. I have just got done yelling at Bram for being lonely... and now I wanted to be lonely... irony.

My name should be irony.

So I ran up the staircase. My legs did not hurt and my breath was not short. I was used to running with tears in my eyes. I reached the outdoors world. No one was around, for it was five o'clock in the morning. I could tell because of the sky's color and the moon's brightness. I ran to France's Garden. My safe haven. My... running away place. With colors that helped me forget things. The flowers.

I flew myself against one of the gondola's white poles. Everything was blue or black under the dark.

The pain engulfed my body. The memories still got to me, even to this day. Only when I remember the emotions of what I felt then... I feel now.

This is no big deal. Another sob story of Christine from The Phantom. Whoop-de-doo. I let the tears fall to the concrete ground. I eventually collected myself and breathed two slow, heavy breaths. I let my forehead hit the wooden post as I stared at it.

Then a hand was on my shoulder. I stopped breathing and stood incredibly still. It was Bram's height... but Bram would not have such a delicate touch. It was someone else... not Diana.

"Monsieur... are you... feeling alright?" 


	16. She psychefied you?

"Monsieur?" the sweet voice said quietly again to me.

What do I do? Do I say hello back? Do I run again? Well... I should probably see who is... touching me. Ugh...

"I'm not a touchy..." I shrugged off her hand from my shoulder, "person..."

She quickly put her hand down. "I'm sorry... I... my name is-"

"I don't care."

"Well... okay th-"

"Leave... now."

"I'm sorry, I only-"

"Wanted to help, I know. I don't want help."

"You are crying."

"So?"

"Crying is actually a signal to another humans mind for help."

"You have no idea about anything. Crying is merely water falling from your eyes to show that you are sad."

"And sadness is an emotion in which-"

"Just... go away."

And instead of waiting for her to leave, I did.

"Wait..."

I didn't.

"Hey!"

I didn't listen.

"You silly infidel!"

I stopped walking. "What?"

"You seem to be so... stuck. Read a book."

"You think I am stupid?"

"No... stuck in your ways. Reading is a way to simulate the mind. When you stimulate it, it sends signals to expand your thought train. This can effect all parts of your brain- math, sight, imagination- anything. Read a book, and get out of that quicksand of your mind."

I chuckled. This fool... she had no idea who she was talking to. Who she was mocking. Who she was shunning with her knowledge... which she obviously had a lot of. She knew what she was talking about. Who was she.

"What kinds of books should I read?" I smiled, my back still turned to her.

"Well... I can sense from how you dress... and the way you stand... that you enjoy music. You are a creative soul... but I know from our dialogue that you seem to be contradicting yourself. Creative souls are open-minded, free... colorful. You seem to be containing your creative side with your dark, silent, stuck-up side. You are two-faced. So, perhaps you should read more... fantasy or science books. Science fiction, too. Not non-fiction... for facts will keep your mind enclosed. You need false, far fetched information to get yourself out of that rut of your mind."

"Whoa... you seem to know a lot about books, genres, and human psychology." I had to admit, I was impressed. She did know her facts... she could tell what I was like just by my posture.

"I can tell by your voice... that you are an amazing singer... but you seem to hold your voice back... for... you are upset at something. It is messing with your mind."

I turned so that she could see the normal, un-masked part of my face. "Have you ever thought about being a psychologist?"

She laughed. "I have a degree... but I don't like working with sick people too much... I am more independent, you know?" then she smiled again, "you are alone too... you live with no one."

"You know my entire life just by looking at the back of my head."

"I spend my time studying on how to do things like that... your hair is fake, too."

I had to smile at that one. "Good job."

"You wear a wig- that you made- to hide your natural, blonde hair, yes?"

"Actually... it is a very bleached red-blonde shade."

"Hm... you are... Dutch... and Scottish. You may also have some Italian roots, but you have hardly any part of it."

"You are starting to scare me now."

"And your name is Erik."

This time I didn't smile. "Do you... know me?"

"No... I told you. I obsess over studying the humans common body language."

"That is... interesting yet... scary."

"You are not a man that is easily scared."

"I am going to leave now..." I am a very blunt person. I get to the point... especially when there are little spiders running down my spine.

"Please... I... I'm not a stalker or anything..."

"You know me. Nobody could know that much about me without knowing me. Goodbye."

And I walked away.

Then a new voice from behind me. "Ms. Thomas!"

Diana. Whoo-hoo.

"Oh, hello Diana dear... what are you doing at this late hour?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"Well... I am looking for the constellation Orion. It comes out at 5:30 through 9:30... but I have heard rumors of it appearing at this time of night. I want to look at Betelgeuse and Regal closer."

"What is a Betelgeuse?"

"A very large star. It has a degree measure of three thousand degrees!"

"Wow! That's hot!"

"And one for the hottest stars known is-"

"Ten thousand degrees" I finished. She thought she was so smart...

"Why, yes, Erik. Very good."

"How do you know Erik, Ms. Thomas?" Diana walked over to me and grabbed my cloak.

"Oh... I merely ran into him here... I used my powers on him... and he is scared."

She smiled up at me. "She psyche-fied you? What did she say? What didn't she say? Isn't it weird?"

"Yes..." I looked at her through my normal side, "It is creepy."

"You are twenty-one. Your favorite color is blue-ish black. Your favorite piece of music is "Think Of Me" from Christine D-"

I turned to her fully. She shuddered as she saw my mask.

This was when I saw her fully. She was... beautiful. She had a long, skinny, curvy body. Her revealed arms were skinny... but somewhat muscular. She wore a white turtle neck, but with no sleeves. Her pants were black, with skinny, shiny, silver stripes going down the pants. She wore black, slightly-heeled shoes.

Then her hair. It was wavy, but not curly. It was a dirty blonde. Half of her hair was behind her back, but the other half... hung in front of the left side of her face. It was a shame to see such a pretty, blue-eyed face be covered my hair.

On her back, she had a backpack. I guessed it was filled with searching gear for constellations. She stared at me with wide eyes.

"Yes... It is me... the man who cries... The Phantom Of The Opera... Duuuuunnnn dun dun dundun dunnnnn...." I sung in a flat tone with my theme song.

She tilted her head. "The phantom? The actual one?"

"Yes... and since you seem to know so much about me because of my voice's tone... I figured it wouldn't hurt if you knew..."

Then her eyes turned curious. They squinted. She approached me with no hint of caution. "Can I ask you some questions?" She reached behind her in to her backpack and grabbed a pen and a notebook.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"How many?"

"Five."

"Four." I would fight for this one.

"Five."

"Three." Persistence.

"Four."

"One." Ha.

"Fine. One."

"How did your face get disfigured?" she was ready to write.

"Can I pass?"

"You said one... you never said any restrictions..."

"I am making one now."

"Too late."

"I don't know you... why would I tell you that."

"You said you would answer."

"No, I said you could ask. I never said I would answer."

"Oh- Hey!"

I grabbed Diana from the arm and pulled her along side me as I walked away from the stunning woman.

"Erik?" she called behind me.

I climbed down into my hole. Diana was feeling awkward, and I felt it.

I grabbed her from the hollow of her arms and sat her down on a chair.

"How do you know... oh what was her name..."

"Ms. Thomas.

"Yes... Ms. Thomas."

"She is a librarian at the library... I am her favorite reader, she says."

So that explains her vast knowledge. She lived and worked with books.

"How does she know how to... tell those things about people?"

"She had a college thingy before... but now she said she prefers to work with books, not crazy people."

A college degree.

"Did she say what kind of degree?"

"A... post-doctorate."

Wow... she would know her stuff. She could be a doctor. Why was she working minimum wage at a library?

"She did not want to see sad, sick people. But she wanted to do something involving books. She loves reading. Every genre."

"Hm... what is her name?"

"Ms. Thomas."

"No... the 'ms.' part."

"She is not married."

"No.. her first name..." children...

"Nobody knows... not even her co-workers."


	17. End, Or Is It?

"DIANA!" they had yelled happily with outstretched arms.

She looked confused, but hugged the man with the receding hair line. I stood there... waiting for them to take her away.

The old woman held her remaining little purse as the driver of the horses loaded the rest. I saw Diana hug the old woman again and look at me and shrugged.

I had called her over to me. She said... that she had no idea who they were.

I had talked to them, full mask on, and they said they were her grandparents.

She said she didn't know who they were... because she had never seen or met them before.

I was leaving this precious little girl... into the hands of strangers.

Oh well... I can't do anything. They flew here from America to get her. I wasn't going to object.

Then, before the old woman had closed the door one last time... Diana ran out and hugged my leg. She clung on hard... making this all the more hard. Why did she do this?

Then I closed my eyes. A wet tear slid down my mask. I couldn't feel it. My hand was on the top of her head, and she cried too.

"Bye, Erik."

"Goodbye Diana."

Then their grandparents said something... my mind was too out of focus to notice the words... and she sauntered into the carriage. Her blue eyes stared into my blue and green ones.

Then... she was gone. Forever. More tears slid down my face.

It was for the best, I kept telling myself in my empty lair. All alone, once again... no giddy voices to fill my ears.

I never did make those pancakes... nah.

I didn't feel like doing anything.

This feeling was not the same as when Christine left. This was a different kind of attraction, so I guess it was a different kind of depression.

Different loneliness.

I loved Diana. I loved having her around. I loved her voice. I loved her face, her hair, her hugs, her tears of joy, her clings, her sweet looks.

Then I had a little slide show of memories. When I first met her...

"Sir? What are you doing here?"

When she hugged me when I had healed her.

The O.G Hospital.

When she saw behind my mask.

The countless smiles.

The priceless hugs and clings.

The never ending curiosity.

The understanding of my soul and my face.

The revelations.

The...

Love.

I cried. I cried in my desk. I moved the papers of my music away so they wouldn't get wet. I gripped my side and clawed at my skin. Pain kills pain.

She was mine. She _was _mine. Now she is theirs. And I didn't even know their names.

But it was for the best.

The best for Diana.

Not for me.

**TO BE CONTINUED IN 'WILDFLOWER CASINO', THE SEQUEL**

* * *

Yes, it's short. Oh well. =D It's done in THIS story, but continued in the sequel, named above, 'Wildflower Casino'.

Here's a link to the sequel:

.net/s/5017687/1/Wildflower_Casino

Or, you could just search it in the 'search' box. =D

Thank you for reading! Please review!


End file.
